


Like a Hero

by freyjaschariot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Nightmares, One Shot, Romance, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 24,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4506165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjaschariot/pseuds/freyjaschariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>one shots & drabbles</p><p>Updates</p><p>34. Oliver tries to convince Felicity to skinny dip<br/>35. Felicity never learned to ride a bike- now she needs a teacher<br/>36. Oliver teaches Felicity to ride a bike, part deux<br/>37. Oliver goes to Felicity after the events of 4.21 (spoilers for the new ep)<br/>38. When they finally get married it's a simple affair</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Babe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity calls Oliver 'babe' for the first time, immediately freaks out about it

The first time Felicity calls Oliver ‘babe’ they’ve been official for all of two weeks and he’s halfway out the arrow cave on his way to chase down Starling's latest baddie. Not exactly ideal timing. Still, it slips out before she can stop it: “Be careful, babe.”

She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth. Oliver freezes and looks back at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. After a second he nods slowly then disappears up the stairs. As soon as he’s gone Felicity drops her face into her hands and groans. Oliver is not a lovey-dovey endearment kind of guy. Plus they haven’t been dating that long. It totally freaked him out, she’s sure. She wishes Dig were there to distract her from her own stupid thoughts but he’s on baby duty tonight so Felicity is left alone with her overactive brain. By the time Oliver comes back several hours later, a small cut across the bridge of his nose but otherwise victorious, Felicity has worried the bright purple nail polish off every single one of her nails.

Oliver doesn't look at her as he comes down the stairs, resets his arrows, and places the quiver back in its holder. She’s going to have to be the one to break the ice. She sidles up to him as he sits down to untie his boots. 

“Sooo,” she says. _Fabulous. Real intelligent comment, Felicity, way to go._ She reaches for something to occupy her hands and lands on one of Oliver’s arrows. 

“Be careful with that,” Oliver warns, just as she taps the sharp point against the pad of her index finger. A stab of pain shoots down her hand as a tiny crimson dot sprouts from her skin. 

“Oops.” 

“I told you to be careful,” Oliver says, but he’s smiling. 

“Right.” Felicity sucks on the injured finger. “I probably should have seen that coming.” 

Oliver straightens up and crosses his arms. “Probably.” 

Just get it over with, she thinks. “Oliver, about before when I, um, called you babe. Did that weird you out?” She looks up at him. “Cause I kind of got the vibe that it weirded you out.” 

“Felicity,” Oliver begins, but that’s as far as he gets because suddenly Felicity’s verbal dam breaks and the words start pouring out in an uncontrollable stream. 

“I just wanted to say—I don’t up have to call you that. I don’t have to call you anything. I mean, other than your name. Oliver. Your name’s Oliver. I mean you know that, obviously—” 

Oliver’s chest shakes with silent laughter. “Felicity—” 

She knows she’s being ridiculous but her mouth doesn’t seem to have a pause or stop button. Her forehead wrinkles as she tries to think of alternative endearments. “I could try ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’, although I have a feeling both of those would be even weirder—” 

Oliver bends down and presses his lips to hers. She immediately forgets whatever nonsense she was about to say and leans into the kiss. Her hand rises to tug at the shoulder of his jacket because she just needs him _closer_ , as close as possible, always. When they finally break apart, Oliver tips her chin up so that their eyes are locked together. 

“Felicity, I would answer to ‘you pile of horseshit’ if it was you calling me that.” 

She reaches up to wipe a smear of hot pink lipstick from his mouth.“Well, darling, I think we have a winner then,” she says, giving him her sweetest smile.

  



	2. Excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity and Oliver sit down in the Foundry to come up with a list of believable excuses for when he has to duck out of things.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Notes:
> 
> Set in an AU where Oliver is still CEO in S3 because why not.  
> 

  


“One time I told everyone that Barry had to go because he had really bad diarrhea.” Felicity said proudly. “I’m pretty sure they all bought it.”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. “And was Barry a fan of that excuse?”

“Well. I wouldn't say he was a fan exactly.”

“Right. So I’m going to say let’s try and stay away from the bowel related excuses, okay?”

“Fine, party pooper.” She made a small note on the list then looked up, grinning. “Ha. Party Pooper, get it?” 

“Felicity!”

She made a face at him. “Jeez, nobody can take a joke anymore. Nothing bowel related. Got it.” She tapped her pencil against her chin while slowly spinning around in her desk chair. “Maybe I could say you’re having an emergency appendectomy?” 

“And if someone calls the hospital?”

“Okay, no appendectomies. I could say that you’re getting a puppy and you have to go pick it up. Or you could actually get a puppy! I’ve always wanted a Scottish terrier—they seem like a good size, you know? Not too big but not too small either.”

Oliver ran his hands down his face. “Felicity, do I seem like a guy who goes jogging with a dog in the park to you?”

“No, you’re right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re more of a cat person.” She set down her notebook and laid her hand on his forearm. "Look, Oliver, I don’t think I’m being very helpful. Maybe we should just wait for Dig to come back to do this.” 

“This is time sensitive, Felicity. What if something comes up while I’m at the board meeting tomorrow and I need you to cover for me?”

“Okay, okay.” She wrinkled her forehead, thinking hard.

“You’re getting your teeth whitened?”

“You had to go buy new shoes.”

“You’re attending a shuffleboard tournament.”

“Oh, I could say you've been temporarily deported!”

“Felicity,” Oliver growled, “none of these are believable.”

Felicity threw her hands in the air. “Well, if you don’t like any of my ideas they do say honesty is the best policy. Maybe we should just tell people you dress up in leather at night and I order you around—” she froze as the connotation of what she had just said sunk in. “Sweet baby Jesus.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head slightly, then opened them again. “I. Give. Up. I am an IT specialist. Not an excuse generator and—what was that noise?” 

“I think it was my stomach,” Oliver said, waving her concern away. “I didn't have lunch today.

“You need to eat something!”

“That’s an okay excuse, I guess.”

“No, I’m serious, Oliver, you need to eat. Your stomach is making terrifying noises. It sounds like a beluga whale just got sat on by a bigger beluga whale.”

Oliver smiled. “Alright, alright. Care to continue this conversation over Big Belly Burger?”

“Oh my god, yes, let’s do that. Only instead of this conversation, can we have, maybe, an entirely different conversation?” 

They headed for the exit. Oliver’s hand hovered over the small of Felicity’s back as they walked up the stairs. 

“I’ll consider it,” he said.

“You know, I can tell you’re not big on the idea but I still think the diarrhea one was my best excuse—”

_"Felicity!"_


	3. The Other Shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's pulling away again but this time Felicity won't let him.
> 
>   
> 

  


The sheets rustle as Oliver slides out of bed, followed by the creak of the loose floorboard by the door. A minute later Felicity hears the door to the deck slide open, and then closed again. She sits up in bed, glancing at the digital clock glowing faintly in the darkness. 

2:37 am. 

Almost every night for the past two weeks Oliver has slipped away as soon as he’s convinced she’s asleep, and Felicity doesn’t know where he goes, or why; only that he’s always back by the time she wakes up in the morning, his warm solidity wrapped around her like an exceptionally well-muscled body pillow. During the day he seems fine. But Felicity knows he hasn’t had a full night’s sleep in a long time and it worries her that he’s keeping his insomnia from her, or at least trying to. 

Moonlight slides across the bed as Felicity throws back the covers and drops to the floor. 

She finds Oliver on the deck, silhouetted against the moonlit water with his elbows braced against the railing. He turns at the sound of the glass door sliding open. 

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi.” Felicity leans against the doorframe, her arms wrapped loosely her arms around herself—all she has on is one of Oliver’s old t-shirts and night air is cold. 

“Sorry," Oliver says. "I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She shakes her head. “You didn’t.”

A small worry crease appears between Oliver’s brows. “Are you alright?”

Felicity raises her eyebrows. “Are you?”

For a moment Oliver hesitates. He’s spent so many years hiding himself—his true thoughts and feelings—that he has to consciously remind himself that it’s been months since he last wore a mask, and much longer since he’s really been able to hide anything from her. 

“It’s stupid.” The words fall like bitter stones from his mouth. 

Felicity moves on autopilot, crossing to him and cupping his cheek so that he's forced to look her in the eye. His hand rises automatically to cover hers and it’s ridiculous how his smallest gestures still send butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“Talk to me,” she whispers. 

She can see the moment the dam breaks—the moment her Oliver wins out over the entrenched urge to fake a smile and tell her he’s fine. “These past few months,” he says, “I’ve been happier than I’ve ever been. But lately, I keep thinking about how this can’t go on forever. It’s going to end. And once we’re back in the real world everything’s going to be different. I lie next to you at night imagining a thousand ways I might ruin us—a thousand ways I could let you down. In my head it’s so easy. And the fact that I’m wasting all our time waiting for the other shoe to drop just makes it worse—”

“Oliver,” Felicity interrupts. “I can tell you right now that there is only one thing you could do to ruin us. One thing. Do you want to know what it is? Shutting me out," she says firmly. "Not talking to me. Keeping all this stuff bottled up while I’m a few feet away, wondering. You’re right—this isn’t going to last forever. The other shoe is going to drop. Personally I’m hoping for a nice pair of Louboutins, but really any free shoes are down with me.”

That manages to tug a smile from him and she feels herself mirroring it; she can’t help it. It’s like looking into the sun and trying not to squint. Impossible. “But when it does we’ll face it together. So stop worrying, ok?”

It’s strange. Everyone thinks Felicity has a way of knowing exactly what Oliver needs to hear, exactly when he needs to hear it. But from her perspective she’s just fumbling in the dark, chasing down whatever words, thoughts, feel right in the moment. It’s like trying to catch wisps of fog between her fingers. And every time there’s a fraction of a second where she panics, sure she’s said the wrong thing. But somehow, she never does. Maybe that’s love, she muses. An adventure without a roadmap. Throwing yourself headfirst into the abyss and trusting the other person not to let you fall. 

“Ok,” Oliver says. He tugs her against him and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

She shakes her head, winding her arms around his waist. “Let’s stay out here a bit. We never see this many stars in the city. It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he says, “it is.” But he’s not looking at the stars. He’s looking at a different kind of light, one far more luminous than a clump of plasma a billion miles away, and a heck of a lot closer.

Felicity’s too busy to notice; she’s got her head thrown back, looking up at the endless expanse of sky. “Can you see any of the constellations? The only one I can ever find is the big dipper.” She squints. “That one kind of looks like a usb port.”

Oliver chuckles. “That’s Libra, the scales of justice.”

She snuggles into his chest and sighs. “Whatever. Still looks like a usb port to me.”

They end up falling asleep in one of the deck chairs, wrapped up in a beach towel and each other. When they wake the next morning the sun is glittering on the water and their skin is sticky from the salt air. They peel themselves apart and despite the aches that come with sleeping two to a chair, both of them are smiling. 

A week later the other shoe drops. Thea calls; there’s a new big bad in Starling and she can’t handle it alone. She needs her big brother, and she needs Felicity’s tech support almost as much. 

Felicity is in their bedroom, packing, before Oliver is even off the phone.

She glances up at him as he follows her into the room a minute later. “Back to the real world,” she says, a careful lightness in her voice. “You ready?” 

He leans against the door frame, a small smile dancing around his lips. “As long as you’re with me.”

“Always,” she says. 

And for the rest of their lives, she is.

  



	4. Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity's first child needs a name.
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the disgustingly fluffy nature of this rainbow vomit. My roommate's got me watching Call the Midwife and it's giving me all the baby feels. And I don't even like babies.
> 
>   
> 

  


Somehow all three of them had managed to stuff into Felicity’s hospital bed; the newborn swaddled in Felicity’s arms, Oliver cradling them both. 

“He’s so pretty,” Felicity said, looking up at Oliver. “Can we keep him?

Oliver chuckled. “I think that’s the idea, babe. You cook him, you keep him.”

“Good,” she murmured, turning back to the baby and pressing kisses to his tiny palm. “Good. You hear that, bubbala? You’re coming home with us, yes you are.”

Oliver stared down at the two of them, hardly believing this was his life. If you’d told him when he’d returned from the island that within five years he’d have a wife, a son, and a respectable level of inner peace, he would have told you you were crazy. Yet here they were. 

“He needs a name, Felicity.”

His wife dragged a finger across the baby’s chubby cheek. “You mean we can’t just call him Sugar Butt and Babycakes for the rest of his life?”

“I’m all for it but somehow I don’t think he’ll thank us for that when he gets to middle school.”

“No.” Felicity sighed. “Probably not. Well. Better call him Tommy then.”

Oliver froze midway through smoothing his infant son’s enviable cowlick. “Tommy?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I know you’ve been thinking it ever since we found out he was a boy.”

Oliver hesitated. “I thought you liked Gabriel. For you grandfather.”

“I like Gabriel for a middle name. But look at that smirk, he’s clearly a Tommy.” She wiggled her index finger, which the baby had clamped down on. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you? Just like daddy and Uncle Tommy?”

Oliver hadn’t thought he could love his wife any more than he already did. Then again, she’d always had a way of surprising him. “Alright,” he said, smiling softly, “Tommy is it.”

“Tommy it is,” Felicity agreed. “Welcome to the world, Thomas Queen.” 

Felicity’s hair was damp with sweat, her cheeks flushed from the effort of bringing their child into the world. And she’d never looked more beautiful to him than she did in that moment. 

Oliver pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Felicity shifted Tommy in her arms. “What, for this old thing? Hardly anything to get riled up about. It’s not like I got you a pair of really nice socks or something.” 

“For loving me,” Oliver said. “And for my family.”

Felicity looked up at him, her gaze clear and full of love. “You’re welcome. Thank you for mine.”

Tommy scrunched up his face and sneezed. 

Together, the Queens stared down in wonderment at the squishy pink human in Felicity’s arms. “Can you believe we made something so perfect?” Felicity murmured. 

“You know,” Oliver said, smiling, “somehow I can.”

  



	5. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes storms still get to him  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be cautious; if thou goest down to the sea, give thyself up to the storm.  
> -Saadi  
> 

  


Felicity woke to thunder and darkness and Oliver tense as a rod beside her, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. With the next thunderclap he threw back the covers and slid out of bed.

Felicity sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Oliver?”

For a moment lightning illuminated his silhouette by the door. Then he was gone.

Oliver had had bad reactions to storms before but they’d become less and less common the longer they travelled. Since they’d settled in Coast City he'd made it through three thunderstorms with little more than a slight shudder. Sometimes all he needed was a minute.

So Felicity gave him a minute. She gave him ten.

Then she went after him.

The light in the hallway was out; the storm must have knocked over a power line. Felicity fumbled along in the darkness, faint shadows swimming across the walls like fish darting just beneath the surface of the water.

She found Oliver on the floor in the living room, pressed into a corner with his knees drawn to his chest. His head was head tipped back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

The window was thrown open and the curtains thrashed wildly in the wind. Rain stung Felicity’s face and hands as she tried to shove it down. It refused to budge." 

The floorboards creaked as she slid down the wall beside Oliver. "Window's stuck again."

Without opening his eyes he said, "You've got to really yank it."

"I tried. I don't have your biceps."

Oliver managed a small chuckle. "That’s probably for the best."

Lightning split the sky and the room lit up like an after image, the crash of the sea against the stormwall threatening to drown out the rolling thunder.

Oliver groaned softly and reached for Felicity, more by instinct then by conscious choice. She squeezed his hand and his breathing slowed the tiniest fraction. She could practically see him counting out the beats in his head: _in_ , 1, 2, 3, _out_ , 1, 2, 3.

“I never told you about the first night after I came back from the island,” he said. It was a statement not a question. Still, laying her head on his shoulder, Felicity shook her head.

He licked his lips. "There was a bad storm, like this one. I was asleep, or half asleep, maybe, because I knew it was storming and it reminded me of when--”

“The Gambit went down,” Felicity said.

Oliver nodded. “My mother woke me up and I tried to strangle her, Felicity. Walter had to pull me off her." Oliver opened his eyes just as lightning flooded the room, igniting the wild blue of his irises.

Another deafening clap and Oliver shuddered. Felicity drew him against her body, one arm banded around his chest, the other slowly carding his damp hair. His face was wet against the crook of her arm; his fingers digging almost painfully into her thigh.

“I'm sorry,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

Felicity didn't know whether he was apologizing to her or to Moira or to some greater metaphysical being. It hardly mattered; if Oliver begged for absolution Felicity would give it to him, the way only she could.

"It's alright," she murmured. "Shh. It's all alright."

They stayed like that a long time.

By morning the storm had swept out to sea. Seagulls danced across a pale blue sky and Oliver was asleep with his head in Felicity’s lap. The curtains swayed in a soft, sweet smelling breeze that skittered across Felicity's skin like butterfly wings. Pale sunlight dappled happily across the walls. It felt as though the world had shed some terrible burden and in the process set to remaking itself: fresh and clean and new.

Felicity traced the shell of Oliver’s ear as she watched him sleep. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Time to wake up. I love you dearly but I can’t feel my legs.”

Grumbling, Oliver rolled slightly in her lap. His eyes fluttered open. The blue seemed lighter somehow-- crystalline almost, like the water beyond the window. It took Felicity's breath away.

She smiled down at him. “Hi.”

His voice was scratchy with sleep. “Hey.”

“What do you want to do today?” Felicity asked, continuing to trace her finger along his ear. “I was thinking we should really fix that window. Batten down the hatches, or whatever it is they say. Think you could manage that?”

Oliver sat up slowly and Felicity suppressed a smile at the redness of his cheek where it had pressed against her thigh. He ran a hand across his stubbled jaw. “I could probably do that.” Felicity meeped as he tugged her against him and pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, you know,” he murmured into her hair.

She smiled into his shirt, breathing him in, savoring his warmth and the sound of his steady heartbeat against her ear. “I know.”

  



	6. First Trimester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy's not always roses and sunshine  
> 

  


“Oliver, is this decaf?”

Oliver glanced over his shoulder at his wife. Felicity was sitting at the kitchen island in her polka dot pajamas staring down at the mug of coffee he’d just handed her as if it were something nasty he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

She sniffed it—Oliver raised an eyebrow; _was it possible to smell caffeine?_ —then set it down and pushed it away. “This is decaf.” 

Oliver turned away, leaning heavily into the stove and biting back the retorts building up in his head. Ever since she’d gotten home last night Felicity had found seemingly endless reasons to snap at him. He’d left his socks on the floor again. The bedroom was too cold. The bedroom was too hot. Between morning sickness, swollen ankles, and QI launching its new cyber security software, Oliver knew she was stressed. But that didn’t make him feel any better about the fact that just an hour ago she’d snapped at him for using too much toothpaste to brush his teeth. 

“Is something wrong, Felicity?” he said, trying to keep an even tone. “Other than the fact that I gave you decaf coffee, I mean.”

The ten most obnoxious words in human history tumbled from her mouth. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.”

Oliver's knuckles whitened against the stove. Seriously, whoever invented that phrase deserved to be drawn and quartered, their body parts flung to the four corners of the kingdom. Or whatever. He spun around. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve been acting pissy since yesterday afternoon and I have no idea why.”

Felicity slid down from her stool and started pulling things out of the cupboard and slamming them down on the counter. “Maybe I’m _pissy_ because I have to pee literally. All. The. Time.” 

“What are you doing?” he asked, exasperated. 

Felicity thumped down a box of sugar so hard silvery granules scattered across the counter. “Looking for the regular coffee.”

“Felicity, you’re the one who said pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink caffeine.”

She spun on him. “Yes, but then the doctor told me that one cup of coffee a day is perfectly fine. Which you would know if you had been at the appointment yesterday.”

Oliver's brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? The OB appointment is tomorrow. It’s been on my calendar for a month.”

Felicity yanked open the drawer by the sink where they kept old cards and take out menus and shoved a piece of glossy paper at him. Oliver’s heart sunk. Not a piece of paper. A sonogram.

“It was yesterday,” she said.

Oliver stared down at the sonogram. He could’ve sworn the appointment was tomorrow. Patricia, his assistant, had reminded him every day for the last week. There was nothing to say except— “I’m sorry, Felicity—”

“I have to pee.” Felicity said, brushing past him. “Again. If I’m lucky maybe I’ll get to puke out a few vital organs while I’m at it.” 

Oliver looked back at the image in his hands. It showed little more than a black kidney bean swimming in a sea of static—but after the two blue lines on the pregnancy test, it was still the first piece of concrete evidence that his child, _their child_ , was more than just an abstract concept. They were having a baby.

Oliver found himself smiling in spite of himself. He tucked the sonogram carefully into the pocket of his pajama pants and went after his wife.

Felicity was holed up in the master bathroom; Oliver could hear the sink running as he knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

“It’s open,” she said. 

He pushed on the door. Felicity was sitting on the floor with her back against the tub, her head in her hands. She looked miserable. His immediate reaction was to pull her into his lap and kiss her but between her anger and the nausea he didn’t know how well she’d react to that. He hovered in the doorway, feeling helpless. “Felicity, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands. 

“Yes, it is,” he insisted. “I must have written the date down wrong or—”

“Oliver!” Felicity looked up at him. She was slightly green and her ponytail was lopsided, locks of damp blond hair falling into her face. “It's not your fault. It's mine.” 

“I—what?”

Felicity gestured to the toilet bowl. “As I was sitting here getting reacquainted with my dinner I remembered that I changed the appointment. The original time conflicted with a conference call with Beijing so I changed it. And then I forgot to tell you that I changed it. And then I forgot that I forgot to tell you. So basically I’ve spent the last twelve hours being a dick to you for standing me up at the OB when I was the reason you weren’t there. Which kind of makes me wanna vomit more even than I already do.” She sucked down a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Oliver pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, letting her words percolate in his mind. The urge to snap at her the way she had been snapping at him, to say she should be sorry, that being a dick was putting it light, was overwhelming. His anger flared up, red hot, then just as quickly it burned itself out and collapsed. By the time he opened his eyes again it was gone. 

Oliver slumped down beside her on the cold tile and pulled her against him. His heart melted a little at the way she immediately curled into him like a cat, burrowing her head beneath his chin; there was trust there, that no matter how much they fought, his arms were a safe place and that would never change.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Felicity, hey, it’s okay.”

She sniffled into his shirt. “If this is an indication of me as a parent things aren’t looking too good.”

“It was a stupid mistake. We’ve both been busy. I’m not mad.”

She ran her hand over her stomach, which hadn't yet begun to show. “You should be. I made you miss its first photoshoot.”

Oliver smiled softly. “It doesn’t matter. If Thea has anything to do with it there’ll be plenty more.” He pulled the sonogram out of his pocket and cradled it in his hand. “So this is the kid, huh?”

Felicity nodded against his collarbone, her fingers hooked into the neckline of his t-shirt. “That’s him.”

“Him? Did you—”

She shook her head. “No. They can’t tell this early. It’s just a feeling.”

They sat there a while, just staring at the sonogram.

“Felicity, I gotta be honest, this doesn’t look like anything to me.”

A small smile chased some of the exhaustion from her eyes. “I know. When they showed it to me I was like, that’s it? That’s what I'm supposed to get emotional over? It’s just a little blob.”

He kissed her forehead. “But it’s our blob.”

“Yeah—” She blanched. “Oliver—”

“Hm?” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He held back her hair as she retched, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words until the nausea passed.

  



	7. If

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4.01 spec fic: Felicity's restless in Coast City but she can't bring herself to tell Oliver  
> 

  


“I’m running your guy through a facial recognition program,” Felicity said. “If he’s been picked up by any traffic cameras in the last twenty four hours we’ll find him.”

“Awesome.” Thea breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks so much for this. Have I mentioned recently that I hate running the comms?”

Felicity smiled into the phone. “Maybe once or twice. Anyway, I’m glad you called. It feels like it’s been forever since the last time you had something for me to do.”

“It’s been three days!”

“I know.” Felicity groaned and rolled onto her back. She was lying on her and Oliver’s bed. Above her, the ceiling fan spun in frenzied circles, fighting a losing battle against the oppressive heat and humidity. It was nearly 10 PM but the heat refused to break. If it was this bad indoors, Felicity couldn’t imagine what it was like outside. How Oliver managed to run in this weather, she’d never understand. “It’s just now that I’m kinda back in it…I guess I just miss being back in it.”

"Felicity,” Thea said suddenly. “Does Ollie know you’re doing this? Helping out the team again?“

"The short answer? “No.”

“And the long answer?" 

Felicity had a sudden longing for an old landline telephone, one with a long cord she could wrap around her finger while she talked the way she used to when she was little and her bubbe would go on and on about bridge club. She grimaced. "The long answer is no, he does not.”

Thea’s tone was the auditory embodiment of a wagging finger. "Felicity, you have to tell him. Don’t make me cut you off. That won’t end well for any of us. Seriously. Last night Laurel asked me if I knew how to google someone’s phone.“

Felicity pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ping their gps.”

“Yeah, well, we figured that out eventually. And Dig’s even worse. His idea of high tech is ordering pizza online instead of over the phone.”

“Oy vey,” Felicity murmured.

“Yeah, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. So having your help has been great. But you need to tell Ollie what’s going on. I can tell you from personal experience that keeping secrets from a Queen rarely ends well.”

“It’s not a secret,” Felicity protested. “It’s just…information that I haven’t shared with him yet.” Well, that response had sounded way better in her head. Her laptop dinged. She pulled it over to herself. “The trace just came back. I’ve got an address for your perp.”

Before she could pass on the information the screen door slammed. Oliver’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Felicity?" 

Felicity bolted upright, the phone pressed against her chest. Frack. “I’m in the bedroom,” she called back. Into the phone she said, "Um, Thea, I have to go.”

“Oliver just came back, didn’t he.”

"Um, no, we don’t need a new cable package,” Felicity said, as Oliver appeared in the doorway, his bare chest gleaming with a thin layer of sweat. “We’re fine with the one we have, thank you.”

Felicity could practically hear Thea rolling her eyes. “Bye, Felicity.”

“Bye!” Felicity ended the call as Oliver sank onto the edge of the bed and bent to untie of his shoes. “How was your run?” she asked. 

“Hot.” Oliver kicked off his shoes and glanced over at her curiously. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one,” Felicity said, a little too quickly. “I mean, not no one. It was obviously someone. I wasn’t just like, sitting here talking to myself. It just wasn’t anyone important. It was the cable company! They wanted to know if we wanted more…cable.”

A small smile spread across Oliver’s face as he listened to her ramble. “You’re cute,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. “Have I told you that before?”

“Once or twice,” Felicity murmured, kissing him back. Guilt chewed at her like a dog with an old shoe. After a minute she pushed him away. “Oliver, you’re all sweaty.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “I thought you liked it when I’m sweaty.”

Felicity couldn’t help smiling back. “I do. Oh god, I do. It’s just, um…I promised I’d call my mom tonight. And your sweaty body is kind of distracting me so…” The guilt dog had turned the guilt shoe into a pile of guilt scraps. 

Oliver stood up, running a hand through his hair. The buzz cut had grown out fast. Now his hair stuck up all over his head in short spikes. The perfect length for holding onto during… _Get your mind out of the gutter, Smoak._

“Call your mom,” Oliver said. “I’m going to take a shower.”

"Okay,” Felicity said softly. _And the worst girlfriend of the year award goes to!_

Oliver disappeared into the bathroom. Felicity waited until she heard the water come on before she hit redial on her phone. Thea picked up on the first ring. "Address?”

“Traffic cameras picked him up at corner of 6th and Gout about five minutes ago. He can’t have gone too far.”

“I’ll let Dig know. And you’re gonna tell Ollie, right? That you’re helping us?”

“Totally. Yep.“

"Felicity,” Thea said warningly.

Felicity flopped back onto the pillows. “I want to, I do! It’s just…Oliver, he’s so-” She struggled to find the right word to describe what Oliver had become over the past few months. Different, was the first one that sprung to mind. 

Thea supplied a better one. “Happy?”

Felicity tugged on a loose thread on the comforter. "Think about it. If I come back to the team, if we all just go back to the way it was, do you think there’s any chance Oliver will be able to stay away? Thea, when we were still on the team, Oliver would barely touch me with a ten foot pole. We literally had to leave the state to be able to be together. What if we can’t have it all? What if we come back and everything we’ve built the past few months just…falls apart?”

These were the thoughts that kept Felicity up at night. She lay in the dark watching Oliver’s chest rise and fall, listening to his steady breathing, and wondering…how long could this last? Felicity loved Oliver more than she’d ever loved anyone or anything in her life. But she also wanted more than a life of quiet domesticity. They’d had five months of leisure and Felicity had loved every second of it. But she was also the daughter of a single, working mother; idleness did not become her. 

The truth tumbled past her lips before she could stop it. "Thea, if we come back I’m scared I’ll lose him.”

“Look-” There was soft creak and Felicity pictured Thea leaning back in her chair and throwing her feet up on the console “-that’s a lot of ifs. And as much as I love my brother, in the end, this isn’t about him. It’s about you. And you miss this, I can tell.” Her voice softened. “Just talk to him, Felicity. I’m not telling you to come back to Starling tomorrow. Just talk to him.”

“Okay. I will.” Disbelieving silence radiated from the other end of the line. "Thea, I will. I promise.”

“Okay. I gotta go, Dig’s calling me.”

Felicity bit her lip. “Alright. Say hi to everyone for me. And be careful.”

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

The call ended. Felicity stared down at her phone. She could tell Thea still didn’t believe her. But she would tell Oliver. She would. Maybe not tonight. Probably not tomorrow either. But soon. She just wanted a few more days of simplicity before everything was up in the air again.

Something caught Felicity’s ear, a floating melody drifting between the fan’s whirring and the sound of the shower; Oliver was singing. A smile spread across Felicity’s face. Oliver Queen sang in the shower now. Who would have ever guessed?

Felicity slid off the bed and went to join her boyfriend.


	8. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woke up with these in my brain and I had to get them out if I want to get anything else productive done today...

Oliver 

“Felicity, on our first date I told you that after I got back from the island the first person I could see as a person was you. But I’m not sure if I’ve explained properly, or enough, what that felt like. It felt like you handed me back a little piece of my humanity that day. And I think I loved you for it, even if I didn’t recognize what that meant at the time.” He clears his throat. “Um...sorry, I’m not very good at this. I’ll just say... I don’t know what would’ve happened if I’d never walked into your office. I don’t who I would be today if I’d never met you. But something tells me the person I am today probably wouldn’t like that guy very much. You’re my partner, Felicity. In everything. You’re my best friend. You have been for years. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Felicity 

“Oliver.” Her eyelids flutter as she sucks down a shaky breath. “Phew, okay, sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry but that’s clearly not going to work out so that’s fine, that’s cool. Anyway… that day when you came into my office? You introduced yourself, and I, in the midst of freaking out that the CEO’s son had just ambled into my cubicle, blurted out ‘I know who you are.’ But I didn’t-- know who you were, I mean. Not really. Not then. But I’ve spent the past six years discovering exactly who you are, Oliver Queen. And the person you are, the man that you are, is the most beautiful, caring, giving soul I have ever known. You are the man that I believe in. You are the man that I love. And I am so proud to be your girl. You changed my life. I love you.”

“Oh and you also make a mean Southwestern omelette. Not that that’s why I’m marrying you-- I just-- he’s really good with eggs, guys. Like the kind you eat not the ones in the kind in your... I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re thinking. Um. I’m gonna stop talking now.” She turns pleadingly to the officiant. “Could we, ah, get to the actual marrying part? That would be great. Yeah, I’m just a little worried he’s gonna leave me at the altar so if we could hurry things up. Okay, great. Thanks.”

When the officiant declares them husband and wife they fall towards each other as though the center of gravity is the space between their lips. It’s the place they've been running to for years, the place they’ve always felt at home. And in a way, they never leave it.


	9. Announcements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity struggles with how to tell Oliver she's pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I swear I'm not baby obsessed. I just want Oliver to be happy and I think what would make Oliver happy is a whole bunch of babies to snuggle.

On May 25th, 2018, Felicity peed on a stick and while she stared down in shock at two pink lines blossoming across the results window, the life she’d known for the past 28 years quietly packed its bags and slipped out the door behind her.

A week went by. Seven days of trying to find exactly the right way to tell Oliver he was going to be a father. Several pregnancy blogs recommended some kind of play on the phrase “bun in the oven,” but Felicity and ovens had never mixed well and she began to feel like the Goldilocks of pregnancy announcements, dismissing every suggestion as too much or not enough.

At the root of her problem was the fact that the pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned. She and Oliver had never had a real conversation about children. They’d circled the subject on multiple occasions, especially after the Diggles’ had their second, a scrunched face little boy named Robbie, after Lyla's grandfather. But they’d never confronted the issue head on.

Still, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the one thing Oliver Queen wanted more than anything in the world was kids of his own. It took Felicity to realize that this was the very reason he thought children were the one thing he could never have. He didn’t think he deserved them. To even speak of the possibility would only serve to remind the universe of how good he had it despite all the bad things he’d done in his past. He didn’t think he deserved the privilege of being a father.

Well too bad, buddy, Felicity thought as she lay in bed on May 31st, listening to the water run in the bathroom while Oliver brushed his teeth. It was happening. They were having a baby. And if fate wanted to smite them for it, so be it. 

She tried to tell him that night as he slid under the covers and pulled her into his chest, sighing happily into her hair. But as soon as she opened her mouth her throat closed up like the time she ate that nut riddled pot brownie in college and Oliver went to sleep another night without knowing.

June stretched into its second week. Felicity knew she couldn’t wait much longer. She had started feeling nauseous as soon as she woke up in the morning and Oliver was bound to notice soon. 

Then on the morning of June 9th Felicity walked into the kitchen to find Oliver already there, sitting at the table eating cheerios out of a mixing bowl, the newspaper propped up against the orange juice carton in front of him. It was early. Diaphanous light wavered across his features, picking out the gold filaments in his hair. A couple of silvers too, she noted wryly. He looked utterly dad-like—or at least how Felicity imagined dads to look, having only had her own for a very short amount of time.

Felicity gently pushed the newspaper out of the way, lowered herself onto Oliver’s lap, and kissed him. She kissed him the way he’d kissed her in the hospital corridor after Sara was born, cradling his face in her hands. She wanted him to feel precious. Loved. When she pulled away he was staring at her strangely, as though he knew something was up but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“Felicity?” he breathed.

Taking his hand, Felicity slid it under the hem of her t-shirt and pressed it just below her belly button. “I’m pregnant,” she said softly. “We’re having a baby.”

In the end it wasn’t an announcement, not really. It was more like a note, folded neatly into fourths and slipped from her fingers to his while the teacher’s back was turned. 

Quiet. Hopeful.

Sunlight slid across the floor while she waited for him to respond. A soft breeze ruffled the curtains, carrying the sweet smell of freshly cut grass across the windowsill. In the morning stillness, Felicity could hear every shake in Oliver’s breath as his fingers spread almost reverently across her abdomen, the heat radiating off his palm searing her skin. 

Something shifted inside of her. Felicity had spent so much time worrying about telling Oliver the news that she’d hardly reacted to it herself. But now, having finally said the words aloud, the realization rushed over her like a wave.

They were having a baby.

Felicity’s stunned laughter jolted Oliver from his reverie. His eyes flicked up to her face. “You’re pregnant?”

Biting her lip, Felicity nodded.

Oliver smiled, slowly at first, his eyes crinkling around the edges like the small, hesitant rays of a sunrise just cresting the horizon—then all at once--a rush light and warmth blinding in its brilliance. His hands twisted into Felicity’s hair as he tugged her lips down to his. “I love you,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you so much.” They laughed into their kisses, cheeks wet, salt on their tongues. 

Finally Felicity pulled away. She was sniffling slightly, her hands grasping Oliver’s wrists as he cupped her face. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Oliver said, smiling as his thumbed a tear off her the ridge of her cheek. “We’re gonna be great.”


	10. Girl Without a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occurs in the immediate aftermath of 3.23

Felicity puttered around her apartment while she waited for Oliver to arrive, doing inane tasks like refolding her socks and toeing all the shoes in her closet into a straight line. She could hardly believe what she was about to do—that tomorrow she and Oliver would be driving off to who knows where for who knew how long. 

Felicity had always been a girl with a plan. From the time she was 7 years old she had known exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up, and had curated a fifteen step program for how to get there. Colored coded sticky notes. Day planners. Calendars with dates marked out two years in advance. That was how Felicity Smoak ran her life. 

Until now.

For the first time in Felicity’s 25 years, she had absolutely no idea where she would be the next day or what she’d be doing. She only knew that she’d be with Oliver. More than be with him. She’d be _with_ him. They’d be together. Somehow the rest didn’t matter. 

When the doorbell rang and Felicity practically ran to the door and threw it open. Oliver was standing on the other side, smiling and holding a box from Pete’s Pizza. The smell of hot cheese wafted into the apartment and Felicity’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Hi,” Oliver said, holding up the box. “I brought dinner.”

“I love you,” Felicity breathed, tugging him into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. 

Oliver ducked his head and Felicity’s heart melted into a pile of rainbow colored goo. She cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. “And not just because of the pizza,” she teased. “I’d say that only accounts for 75% of the reasons I love you.” 

Oliver followed her into the living room and set the pizza down on the coffee table. “Wine?” Felicity asked, glancing at him over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.

“Please.”

Felicity grabbed plates and glasses and rejoined Oliver on the living room floor. They ate in silence, both of them too exhausted from the events of the last day, week, month, to do much more than chew and occasionally glance at each other and smile shyly. In her earlier giddiness, Felicity had managed to ignore her exhaustion but as she pushed her plate away and downed the last of her wine it began to creep back into her bones, tugging at her eyelids and making each movement feel like wading through cement. If this was how she felt, she couldn’t imagine how tired Oliver must be. Oliver started to pile the plates together but she pushed his hands away and carried them to the kitchen herself.

The dishwasher was still full of clean things—Felicity couldn’t even remember the last time she’d run it—so she added the plates to the growing pile in the sink and told herself she’d deal with them tomorrow before they left.

Felicity paused in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. Oliver had shucked his shoes and jacket and was stretched on the couch, eyes shut, one arm thrown across his forehead. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Something fluttered deep in Felicity’s chest at the sight of him so vulnerable. She lowered the lights until they were only a faint, warm glow and sank carefully on the couch beside Oliver, not wanting to wake him up but wanting to be close to him at the same time. 

Outside it had started to rain. Raindrops tapped softly against the window, glittering in the yellow light of the streetlamps below. 

Oliver’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Sorry,” Felicity said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wasn’t asleep,” he murmured, reaching for her. “Waiting for you.” 

Oliver pulled her down beside him, shifting so she could curl into his side with her head nestled in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve been waiting for you too,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the neck of his shirt. For so long. All the pain and longing and misery that had gone into that wait washed away as Oliver pressed feather-light kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. 

Felicity shifted again so they were pressed chest to chest, their legs intertwining. Their hands roamed across each other’s bodies as their kisses grew wetter, more desperate. Felicity had changed into pajamas before Oliver arrived: a loose t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts with dalecks on them, and Oliver’s hot hands glided easily beneath the hem of her shirt, ghosting up her ribcage, before falling lower to cup to backside and tug her closer, always closer. Felicity’s breath hitched as her hands grappled with the bottom of Oliver’s shirt, trying to push it up and off him. Finding it impossible from that angle, she slid her hands under the shirt instead, reveling in the feel of his hot skin against her fingers. As her hand glided up his chest Oliver hissed and pulled away. Felicity jerked her hand back and propped herself up on her elbow, her face etched with concern. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Oliver shook his head, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “It’s just a bruise. From where our police friends shot me.” With a small huff he fell back against the pillows and reached up to tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “Sorry I reacted like that.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Felicity gingerly lowered herself back down beside him and settled into the crook of his arm. Oliver’s fingers lightly traced her spine through her t-shirt. “It’s only been a few hours since you got shot. I should have remembered. It feels so long ago.”

“I know.” He kissed her forehead again. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

Oceans separated where they were now from where they’d been mere hours before. Felicity had come so close to losing everything, only to have the trajectory of her life redirected at the last moment. She was still having trouble believing it was all real. She worried that if she allowed herself to fall asleep, she would wake up to find that this night had never happened, that it had all been a lovely, lovely dream.

With a small sigh Felicity settled back against Oliver, her head pillowed on the uninjured side of his chest. For a moment they were silent, just listening to the sound of the rain plinking against the window. Then Felicity said, “As much as I hate to say this, maybe we should resume this activity at a later date.” When Oliver didn’t respond she lifted her head. “Oliver?” A soft smile spread across her face at the sight that greeted her: Oliver’s face was turned away from her, his eyes closed, his long eyelashes dusting the curve of his cheek as he snored softly into the back of the couch. 

Felicity pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before laying her head back on his chest. They’d have plenty of time to finish what they’d started over the course of the coming months. In fact if she had anything to do with it, that’s all they’d be doing for a very long time. For once Felicity Smoak was a girl without a plan. She couldn’t wait to begin.


	11. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during the summer of love: Oliver and Felicity argue over what movie to watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a dialogue fic-- I hope you like it!

“It’s a cartoon.”

“ _My Neighbor Totoro_ is not a cartoon, Oliver.”

“Then what is it?”

“An animated film. And a cinematic masterpiece, in my unbiased opinion.”

“Isn’t an opinion inherently biased?”

“Oliver.”

“Well it looks like a cartoon to me.”

“Fine! Then what do you suggest we watch?”

“No way, Felicity. I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Picking the movie.”

“Oliver, you’ve shot down every single one of my suggestions. That means you have to pick.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you not remember what happened last time I picked?”

“You’re being dramatic—it wasn’t that bad. And anyway it was your fault for picking _Rosemary’s Baby_.”

“You said yes! Quite enthusiastically if I remember correctly. How was I supposed to know you can’t handle horror movies?”

“I handle them just fine, thank you very much.”

“Felicity, you didn’t sleep for a week. I woke up and you were sitting by the front door holding a tennis racket and mumbling something about showing the devil who’s boss.”

“I was protecting you. You’re welcome for that by the way.”

“You were going to protect me from the devil with a tennis racket?”

“Yes, Oliver, with a tennis racket. I’m so sorry my method of saving you from Satan wasn’t up to your high standards but we can’t all be bow and arrow aces now can we.”

“I’m just saying. The fireplace poker would have been much more effective.” 

“How about I go get my tennis racket and we’ll see how effective it is.”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“I was really scared, Oliver!”

“I know. And that’s why I’m not picking the movie. You say yes no matter what I suggest. Felicity, stop pouting! Think about it this way—I’m protecting you from yourself.”

“Fine. I’ll pick. But you’ll owe me.”

“I’ll owe you for letting you pick the movie?”

“That’s the deal.”

“Seems backwards but fine. What do I owe you?”

“Two foot massages and I get to eat all the tops off the next batch of muffins you bake.”

“No way! You know I hate when you do that.”

“That’s why I’m telling you in advance! Take it or leave it.”

“Argh. Alright. But I get to pick the flavor of the muffins.”

“You have yourself a deal, Mr. Queen.”

“So what are we watching?”

“ _My Neighbor Totoro_.”


	12. Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Married Olicity. Oliver takes a reluctant Felicity to get a flu shot.

“Oliver, I changed my mind.”

“Felicity, no. You’re doing this.”

“You can’t make me.”

“You let Tommy change the password on all your computers and you told him not to tell you what it is until you did this.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I seriously doubt that. Our son has a very vivid imagination. And an excessively large vocabulary for a five year old—which is entirely your fault by the way.”

“All I have to do is offer to trade Tommy a cookie for the password. Thank God he didn’t inherit your aversion to sweets. Come on let’s go home this place is giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Felicity. You’re getting a flu shot.”

“No, I’m not. Where are my keys? Did you take my keys?!”

“I drove you here. I’ve had the keys the whole time.”

“Give me the keys, Oliver.”

“After you get your shot. Look, that little girl’s like four and she just got one and she doesn’t look traumatized or anything.”

“Thank you for pointing out that I am a bigger scardey-cat than a four year old.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Clearly that is not true. And you don’t even know about the kangaroos.”

“Kangaroos?”

“They look evil—you know what never mind.”

“Look at this pamphlet. It says pregnant women have a higher risk of developing serious complications from the flu than non-pregnant women. You’re pregnant.”

“Oh, am I? That explains so much. Like this giant balloon sticking out of my stomach.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, darling.”

“You know I’m starting to think you only got me pregnant as part of a long con to force me to get a flu shot.”

“You caught me. That was absolutely 100% my motive.”

“Well joke’s on you cause I wanted another baby all along.”

“We do make cute babies.”

“Mmm. Just cause I let you kiss me doesn’t mean I’m getting the shot.”

“Felicity Queen?”

“You’re up, babe.”

“Oliver, I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can. I’ll hold your hand the whole time. Think of baby Tallulah.”

“Oliver, we’ve been over this. We are not calling our daughter Tallulah.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I did think about it. And we’re not calling her—ow!”

“All done, Mrs. Queen.”

“You could have warned me, you know.”

“I’m very sorry, ma’am. Would you like a sticker?”

“No, I would not like a sticker. You think you can just sneak up on people with needles and then distract them with—is that a Doctor Who sticker?”

“It would appear so.”

“I’ll take that one, please.”


	13. Blanket Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver build Felicity a blanket fort because he's classy like that

“It’s really cozy in here.”

“It is.”

“I have to admit, you’re a skilled blanket fort builder, Mr. Queen. Very sturdy.”

“I’m blushing.”

“It’s one of the two main reasons I married you actually.” 

“Oh really? What was the other reason?”

“You always fold my socks when you do laundry. It saves me like 15 seconds every time I need a pair of matching socks.”

“Felicity you wear heels 99% of the time.”

“And the other 1% of the time I wear shoes that require socks and you save me 15 seconds. What can I say—I’m a business woman; time is money.”

“Well I’m glad you married me for such a heartfelt reason.”

“Obviously that’s not the only reason I married you. Like I said, I admire your skill in blanket fort building. It’s a real alpha male ability.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

“I really think the kids are gonna love this.”

“Felicity, we don’t have any kids.”

“Yet.”

“Are you suggesting we leave this up until we have kids?”

“Why is that weird?”

“I mean it takes up a lot of space. And I assume it’s gonna be a while...”

“Not that long. I’ve heard nine months is the norm although I’m not exactly sure how far along I am so it could be less.”

“...are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That I’m pregnant? Yes. At least, if the fourteen and a half pregnancy tests I took this morning are to be believed. Oh and don’t worry I’ll replace your orange juice. I needed pee fuel.”

“How do you take half a pregnancy test?”

“I started to pee on it but I ran out of...is that really what you want to focus on right now?”

“You’re pregnant!”

“That’s what I’m trying to—Oliver you’re suffocating me!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just really happy.”

“Promise? I was a little worried.” 

“Felicity, I’ve never been happier in my life. I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Hey, Oliver?”

“Hm?”

“Does this mean we can leave the blanket fort up?”


	14. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has a nightmare while Oliver's out of town

Felicity awoke from the nightmare with a ragged gasp. Her eyes snapped open to a room was utterly dark and still. She had twisted herself up in the sheets while she slept and it was suffocatingly hot beneath the heavy comforter. Felicity pushed it down to her waist and fell back against the headboard, staring up at the velvety blackness pooled in the center of the ceiling as images of her dead family continued to flash across her mind. _It wasn’t real,_ she reminded herself. _It wasn’t real. It was just a dream._

But it had all been so vivid. Oliver, dead, his neck twisted at an unholy angle, blood pouring from a wound in his gut. Tommy, her sweet boy, his blue eyes glazed over, small fingers cold and lifeless. Sophie—her baby—a sob wracked Felicity’s shoulders and she clamped a hand over her mouth to dull the sound. The last thing she wanted was to wake up the kids when she was in this state. 

More than anything she wished Oliver was there to wrap her up in his arms and kiss the fear away. But her husband was currently hundreds of miles away at a conference in Gotham and he wasn’t supposed to be back until morning, which itself felt impossibly far away. Felicity pulled her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears marking tracks down her cheeks. She was no stranger to nightmares. In the aftermath of Damian Darkh’s rampage they’d become an almost nightly occurrence. But Oliver had always been there to hold her until her body stopped shaking, to whisper reassurances into her ear until his words chased the lingering screams out of her head. Tonight she was alone.

“Mommy?”

Felicity opened her eyes at the sound of the small voice. Her four year old stood in the bedroom doorway in her Disney princess pajamas clutching Blue, the ratty baby blanket she refused to be parted with. Moonlight caught in her pale hair, making a halo of her tangled curls. Felicity pushed herself up in the bed, wiping furiously at her eyes and forcing her mouth into the shape of a smile. “I’m sorry baby, did I wake you up?”

“You were crying.”

“Mommy had a bad dream, bubbala . But I’m fine now. You can go back to bed.”

Sophie didn’t leave. Instead she asked, “Was your dream about monsters?” 

Felicity let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”

To Felicity’s surprise her daughter’s small face it up. “Then I know what to do!” She disappeared from the doorway and a moment Felicity’s heart stuttered but a few seconds later Sophie reappeared, this time loaded down with an armful of stuffed animals. She dropped them onto the bed then dashed out again only to reappear with another armful of plush tigers and dolphins which she threw onto the bed before clambering up herself.

“Whatcha doin, bud?” Felicity asked, watching as Sophie began to carefully line the animals into a border around her. Her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal as she watched her daughter with a slight smile on her face. 

“Daddy showed me how to do this,” Sophie said, placing a stuffed zebra lovingly against Felicity’s toes. “When you have a bad dream the buddies will protect you. Daddy says they’re the best guards against monsters because they don’t have to sleep like we do.” Sophie completed the circle of stuffed animals then lay down with a small huff beside her mother so that they were almost nose to nose. She patted Felicity’s cheeks with between her hands. “Go to sleep, mommy. We’ll protect you.” 

“You will, huh?”

“Yep! Me and the buddies.” Sophie yawned. 

Felicity smiled, a real smile this time. “How bout we both go to sleep and the buddies take the first watch?”

Sophie’s eyes were already fluttering closed. “Good plan, mommy,” she mumbled.

Felicity chuckled and pulled her daughter closer, breathing in her familiar smell. She tucked the comforter tighter around Sophie’s small shoulders. The little girl was already softly snoring, her lips parted just slightly. “I love you, sheina miedel,” Felicity whispered. “Thank you.” 

When Oliver arrived home early the next morning the house was quiet. The only thing that moved was the pale morning light sliding across the walls. He stopped in his and Felicity’s bedroom to drop off his bags and found his wife and daughter snuggled together in their bed, a broken perimeter of stuffed animals surrounded them—an unfortunate few had been kicked to the floor while the girls slept. He smiled at them for a moment then went to check on his son. Tommy was small lump hidden entirely beneath his covers. Oliver pulled his door shut and headed to the kitchen. 

The rest of the family woke an hour later to the smell of pancakes and coffee. Felicity padded into the kitchen with Sophie on her hip, their hair pulled into matching messy buns. She stopped at Oliver’s side and titled her head up for a kiss. “Mm, I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve been living on cereal all week. How was the conference?”

“Boring. Tedious. Far away from you.” He kissed her again. Then he turned to Sophie and pinched her chin between his fingers. “And you.” He took them both in. “Everything okay here while I was gone?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Felicity said, smiling up at him. “You have a very smart daughter, you know.”

“I do know. I wonder where she gets it from,” Oliver teased.

“Oh, I think I know,” Felicity said, gazing up at him with an equal amount of love.


	15. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dialogue fic: Felicity's scared of flying/Oliver tries to comfort her

“Felicity, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m sorry!”

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

“I said I’m sorry what more do you want?”

“Ideally I’d like to be able to feel my fingers.”

“Sorry.”

“Yes, you said that. But you’re still crushing my hand. Could you just loosen your grip a tiny bit?”

“No, Oliver, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do the plane will crash.”

“It will?”

“Yes. Oh god—why is there so much turbulence today?!”

“You know you’re actually way more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash, right?”

“We’re not in a car right now, are we?”

“I’m just saying, statistically speaking—”

“Do not lecture me on statistics, Oliver Queen. You failed that class. Three times, in case you forgot.”

“How could I forget you when keep reminding me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m just lashing out because I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die, sweetheart.”

“Tommy picked his nose the other day. Twice. I meant to tell him to stop but I got distracted by a work call. Oh god, Oliver, what if we die and no one ever tells him to stop picking his nose and he grows up to be that guy you pull up next to at a stoplight who’s got his entire finger stuffed up his nose—”

“Felicity, he’s two and a half. I wouldn’t be too worried about him turning into a serial nose picker just yet.”

“Why is the plane shaking like that? Is that normal? Here comes the stewardess can you please ask her if that’s normal?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I do that thing you like as soon as we get to the hotel?”

“Excuse me, ma’am? Is this a normal amount of turbulence? Okay, thank you. My wife is just being a little bit of a nervous flyer today.”

“You didn’t have to tell her you were asking for me!”

“But I was asking for you.”

“Oliver?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for not letting go.”

“Never.”

“And I love you.”

“You’re just saying that right now because you think we’re going to crash, aren’t you?”

“Only a little bit.”

“I love you too, babe.”


	16. Home Cooked Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver comes back from a work trip to find his kids slightly traumatized by their mother’s cooking ‘skills’

“Dad!”

“Daddy!”

Oliver stumbled back as both his kids shot at him like cannonballs the second he walked through the front door.

“Hi guys,” he said, petting his daughter’s hair before reaching around her to pull the door shut behind him. It had only been one night but both kids clung to him like he’d been gone for a year. “Everything okay here?”

They looked up at him with matching expressions of despair.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on?”

Tommy glanced around before saying in a low voice, “Mom cooked dinner last night.”

“We told her we could just get take out,” Sophie said, wide eyed, “but she said we were going to have a _home cooked meal_.” 

Oliver swallowed a laugh. He’d tried to teach Felicity to cook when they first got together but it hadn’t gone very well. It was like trying to teach a cat to crochet—it had nothing to do with effort or intention; if the crocheter doesn’t have thumbs it’s a lost cause to begin with. “You mean she made pasta?”

Tommy shook his head. “A whole chicken. And sides.”

“That poor chicken,” Sophie said sadly.

“Poor us,” Tommy grumbled. “I’m surprised I didn’t lose a tooth on that thing.”

“That bad, huh?” Oliver said.

“I don’t want Mommy to cook anymore,” Sophie said. “She gets angry when she cooks. She kept yelling about how chickens should have gone texting with the dinosaurs!”

“Extinct,” Tommy corrected. “She said chickens should have gone extinct with the dinosaurs.”

“Oh,” Sophie said, nonplussed. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Where’s your mother now?” Oliver asked.

“In her office,” Tommy said, moving away to flop on the couch and flip on the TV. “She’s been in there all morning. She always codes when she’s grumpy.”

“Alright, I’ll go talk to her.”

“Be careful, daddy,” Sophie said, patting his hand.

The door to Felicity’s home office was open. She was sitting at her desk in her pajamas, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail with a pencil stuck through it. She looked soft and rumpled and comfortable—she looked like home. Oliver had to resist the urge to stride to her and pull her into his arms. Instead he knocked lightly on the door. Best not to startle her when she was in a bad mood. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

“I can hear you smiling, Oliver,” Felicity said without looking up at him. “The kids told you about last night?”

“They might have mentioned something.” Oliver crossed to her chair and set to massaging her shoulders, digging his thumbs into the base of her neck the way he knew she liked. “I’m sure they exaggerated a bit.”

“Mm.” She leaned back into his hands, her eyes fluttering closed. After a minute she opened them again spun the chair around to look up at him. “They didn’t exaggerate. It was really bad. Like really, really bad.”

Unable to resist any longer, Olive pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her waist. “As bad as the time you tried to make scalloped potatoes?”

“You swore we’d never talk about that again!”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said, trying not to laugh as she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“I think I’m really done this time. No more cooking for me. It’s all you, babe. I’m officially a culinary failure.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re great at so many other things.”

“I am, aren’t I?

“Mhm.”

Felicity pulled back a bit and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Hey, want to practice one of the other things I’m really good at?”

“The kids…”

Felicity glanced the time on her computer. “Bill Nye is on in two minutes. They’re obsessed. We have exactly half an hour.”

This time Oliver didn’t try to hide his smile. “Lock the door.”


	17. 3rd Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> marired Olicity/dialogue fic: Felicity enters the wrong hotel room after running to the ice chipper in her underwear.

“Stop laughing!”

“I’m trying...I can’t. Oh my god.”

“Oliver, it’s not funny!”

“Oh come on, you have to admit it’s a tiny bit funny.”

“You’re the worst husband ever! I can’t believe you’re laughing about this!”

“I’m just imagining his face—did he seemed surprised?”

“Did the random dude whose hotel room I walked into in nothing but my underwear after running down the hall to get ice for _your_ sore nether regions seemed surprised to see me? Yeah, you could say that.”

“I bet he was happy too, though.”

“I’m filing for divorce.”

“It’s our anniversary!”

“I’m gonna go ask the guy in room 620 if he wants to get a drink. I bet he’s a great guy. I bet he wouldn’t laugh at his wife for making an honest mistake.”  
“I’m sorry! I’ll stop laughing please don’t divorce me.”

“Too late. You had your chance, Queen. Now it’s Carl’s turn.”

“...who’s Carl?”

“My friend in 620.”

“How do you know his name?”

“He told me.”

“What, did you hang around for a chat with the guy?”

“I wouldn’t say that. He was having some computer trouble so I offered to help him out.”

“...”

“I was just being a good Samaritan.”

“You were only wearing underwear.”

“Oh, Carl let me borrow his robe. The fan in his laptop is broken so it kept overheating and then crashing and then he’d reboot it and the whole thing would start all over again. I didn’t have the parts to fix it but at least now he knows what’s wrong.”

“...”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t think I like Carl. In fact, I kind of want to punch Carl.”

“Well that’s not fair. You’ve never even met the guy. He was perfectly nice.”

“This isn’t funny, Felicity!”

“30 seconds ago you thought it was hilarious.”

“That was before I knew you decided to hang out in his hotel room in your underwear!”

“Oh stop being so dramatic. We did not ‘hang out.’ And anyway, it wasn’t even my fancy underwear. I haven’t put that on yet.”

“...fancy underwear?”

“Mhm. Special, 3rd anniversary night underwear. I’ll give you a hint: it’s green.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I thought you might.”

“So does this mean you’re not going to divorce me?”

“Let’s just say there’s a lot riding on how the rest of the night goes.”

“Felicity, riding is what got us into this mess.”


	18. 2 AM/is forever enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity's daughter breaks her wrist/Felicity's reaction

It was two am when Felicity slid out of bed and padded down the hall to her daughter’s room. Sophie’s door was ajar and the soft yellow light from her panda bear nightlight spilled into the dark hallway. Felicity leaned against the doorframe, the tightness in her chest loosening as she watched Sophie’s back rise and fall. Her small body was curled around the lime green cast on her wrist--she’d broken it falling from the monkey bars at the school playground earlier that day. 

The call from the school nurse replayed in Felicity’s head— _Mrs. Queen? I’m calling about Sophie. She’s had an accident. We tried to call your husband but we weren't able to reach him_ \--

Felicity had rushed to the school to find her seven year old sitting in the nurse’s office holding a bag of ice to her wrist and chatting with nurse about the merits of various Disney princesses. 

“Jasmine’s my favorite,” Sophie was saying very seriously, her short legs pumping away beneath her, “because she has a pet tiger. I asked my daddy if we could get a tiger but he said only maybe a gerbil.” Her pink-tipped nose was the only evidence that she’d been crying. When she saw Felicity her whole face lit up and Felicity had to swallow the sob that had been rising in her throat since she’d gotten the call so that she could give her daughter a wobbly smile.

At the emergency room Sophie chattered with the nurses about what she was going to name her gerbil. “I’m going to call her Princess Leia. That’s what mommy wanted to name me before I was born but daddy wouldn’t let her.” Then she had insisted on a green cast because green was her daddy’s favorite color. “I think it’s cause momma always wears green undies for their nanniversary!”

How she knew that Felicity had no idea. 

Before she had kids Felicity had always slightly resented the way people talked about their lives beginning only once their children were born. Now she understood. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had a life before. It was more about the fact that she had become someone else—something else—after. She wasn’t just Felicity anymore. She was _mom_. She was the fixer and the soother and the purveyor of snacks and time outs and silly songs. It was terrifying. It was one of the best damn things to ever happen to her. 

Felicity climbed onto Sophie’s bed and slid into the gap between the warm lump that was her daughter and the wall. She smoothed Sophie’s soft curls away from the base of her neck and pressed a kiss to her baby soft skin. Sophie shifted unconsciously in her sleep, molding her body into her mother’s and for a fleeting moment it was like they were one person again, the way they’d been when Felicity was pregnant and she’d whispered promises to her bump--to love her always, to protect her from whatever harm the world might try to do to her. It had been seven years since then and Felicity had quickly learned what an impossible promise that was to keep. But she would never stop trying. 

Sophie yawned without opening her eyes. “Momma?” she murmured. 

“Mhm?”

“How long are you gonna love me?”

“Forever, baby.”

Sophie yawned again and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. “That’s a really long time.”

Felicity smiled into the pillows. Her heart ached, the particular happy-sad kind of ache that results from knowing you have something so wonderful that losing it would absolutely destroy you. 

_Not long enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know where this came from but it's giving me all sorts of weird emotions so I'm just gonna leave it here and skedaddle. Happy Tuesday!


	19. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILERS FOR 3.04**
> 
>  
> 
> flash fic/4.03 missing scene: Oliver comforts Felicity in the lair after she and Curtis are attacked by Double Down

“Felicity–”

“I’m fine, Oliver.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I keep saying it because it’s true.”

“Then why is your hand shaking?”

“I’m cold. It’s freezing down here and before you say anything I refuse to compromise the integrity of this outfit by adding a sweater.”

“Felicity.”

“Yes, Oliver, you know my name. I get it.”

“I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be honest– I’m a little freaked out. I’ve never shot a man before. I mean, I’ve never shot a woman before either. Or anything really. Well, unless you count that time I got my hands on my Uncle Pete’s bb gun when I was five. Which I don’t because let me tell you, that clown had it coming.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Just…hold me for a minute?”

“Because you’re cold, right?”

“Right. Cause I’m cold.”


	20. Earrings

“Why are you mad?”

“You took our daughter to get her ears pierced without talking to me first!”

“They’re just earrings, Oliver.”

“I think you mean they’re ‘just’ permanent holes in our seven year old’s ears.”

“Well, yeah. That is generally what happens when you pierce your ears.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be making permanent changes to her body?”

“Not really. I had my ears pierced when I was three by a magician during a magic show at the Grand.”

“...I love you but I think we’ve established you didn’t have the most conventional childhood.”

“Who wants to be conventional? Anyway just wait til you see the earrings she picked. Sophie! Come here and show daddy your earrings.”

“They’re...they’re arrows.”

“Honey, can you go call your brother for dinner, please?”

“Felicity, she picked arrow earrings.”

“I know. I couldn’t believe it when she showed them to me.”

“You don’t think she knows, do you?”

“God, no. She’s an even bigger blabbermouth than I am. Trust me, we’d know if she knew. I guess you guys just have an unspoken connection. I mean we knew that already but this just kind of proves it.”

“That’s...very cool.”

“Isn’t it? So you’re not mad anymore? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. I really am. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. She was upset because her boyfriend broke up with her and—”

_“She has a boyfriend?”_

“Not anymore-- he broke up with her. Sometimes I swear you don’t listen when I—”

_“She’s seven!”_

“Oliver, they weren’t really dating. She won him by beating Susie Carpenter in a four square match.”

“She...what?”

“But then he left her for an older woman.”

“...an older?”

“The teacher, Ms. Patel.”

“Oh.”

“You realize none of this is real, right?”

“I think I’m starting to.”

“Good. So are you gonna forgive me? Cause you owe me a foot rub that I’d love to cash in on but I don’t wanna ask until you’re not mad anymore.”

“I’m not mad anymore. I guess convention is a little overrated.”

“Exactly. And anyway look at me. Ears pierced by a magician and I still turned out normal.”

“Well...”

“Oliver!”

“You’re not normal! You’re a genius. Amazing. Incredibly brave. Definitely not ‘normal.’”

“Nice save, mister.”

“Thank you.”


	21. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dialogue fic: Oliver and Felicity play one of their games

“Okay, here’s one. If you could be anywhere in the world right now where would you be?”

“Well that’s easy. Here. In bed with you.”

“Oliver.”

“What?”

“You’re not playing the game right! You’re not supposed to say where you already are.”

“But that’s my honest answer.”

“Well pick somewhere else.”

“Felicity, that’s my final answer. Take it or leave it.”

“You’re such a stinker.”

“I know. You really weren’t thinking straight when you fell for me were you?”

“I must have hit my head on the way down.”

“You’re hilarious. Ask me another question.”

“Only if you promise to play properly.”

“I promise to be good.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Okay, fine. If you could be doing anything at all right now what would it be?”

“Lying in bed with my girlfriend.”

“Oliver!”

“What?”

“You did it again! You pinky swore!”

“Stinker, remember? Ask me another.”

“No way!”

“Come on, just one more.”

“Fine. But if you don’t give me a good answer I’m kicking you out of bed.”

“Fair enough.”

“If you could be eating anything right now what would it be? Hey, where are you going?”

“Shh, Felicity. I’m showing you my answer.”

“Wha—oh. _Oh!_ Good answer. Very good answer.”


	22. Pillowtalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 4x06 feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i love you much (most beautiful darling)_
> 
> _more than anyone on the earth and i  
>  like you better than everything in the sky_
> 
>    
> -e.e cummings

“Do you know what do you love most about you?” Felicity asked. They were lying tangled together in bed, Felicity’s head pillowed on Oliver’s chest. 

“It’s the cooking isn’t it?”

Felicity drew small circles on his chest with her finger. “No. That’s definitely in the top five though.”

“Is it that I’m really good at backrubs?”

She poked him in the ribs. “I’m being serious here.”

Oliver smiled and kissed her. The sweet kind. The kind of kiss that sighs straight through your lips and into your soul. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want my real answer?” 

Oliver hesitated, then nodded. 

“I love how fully you love. How you give all of yourself to others without reservation. To me. To Thea. To the city. It’s incredibly brave. I want to be like that.”

Oliver’s brow creased. “Felicity, you are. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She sounded sad. He wanted to kiss her again but he could tell she had more to say so he waited. “In all my relationships there’s always been this piece of me that I’ve held back—a little part of myself I kept hidden away, just for me. I thought I was being strong because I kept myself guarded but I don’t think that anymore. I just don’t know how to...not be that way.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, and he heard her let out her breath. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

She snuggled closer, sliding her leg between his and pressing her icy toes against his calf. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” 

He smiled into her hair. “Luck, I suppose. Have you ever considered sleeping in socks?” 

“Can’t sleep with socks.” She yawned. She was barreling toward sleep on a runaway train. Her eyelashes fluttered against his chest, the barest sensation skittering across his skin. “Oliver?”

“Hm?”

“I'm going to say yes. Just wanted you to know."

The moon slid out from behind a cloud, gilding the sheets in pale light. Felicity's hair was a silver halo on her pillow. Oliver pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I know.”

Felicity nodded and burrowed deeper into his arms. “Good," she murmured. "That’s good. Imma sleep now.”

His arms wrapped around her tight, intent on holding her through the night. “Sweet dreams.”


	23. 4.10 spec fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little theorizing about what's gonna happen after the mid-season finale. Not sure if I actually think something like this might happen but who knows, right?

Felicity came to in a small cell with grey walls. There were no windows. A thin slit near the top of the door let in a single shard of light from the hallway. Other than that she sat in darkness.

She tried to move and her body screamed. She had bruised ribs, at least two of them. A tiny marching band was pounding out an enthusiastic beat against her skull. Awareness of the rest of her body parts crept in slowly, one piece at a time. Her arms were shackled to the wall behind her. Her legs folded beneath her and her ankles zip tied together.

She tried to remember what happened but a miniature drummer was smashing his mallet against her frontal bone and that made it hard. She remembered getting into the limo with Oliver. She remembered Andy turning around in the driver’s seat, congratulating them on their engagement. But after that…darkness

The door to the cell opened. Felicity winced and cowered back into the wall as light flooded her eyes. The door closed again and the flare receded. In its place stood Damian Darhk. He was holding a try with a bowl of what looked like oatmeal. Plus an apple, a cookie, and a juice box. It was the kind of lunch one might expect to get from an elementary school cafeteria.

“Ms. Smoak,” he said pleasantly. “I was so glad to hear you’re awake. I really hope you won’t take this whole thing personally. I promise, it’s really not about you at all.”

Felicity didn’t say anything. What was the point? As good as she was at poker, in this game Darhk held all the cards. He’d call her bluff the second she opened her mouth.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment? If so I hate to disappoint you but I’m rather immune. I had hoped we could be cordial with one another but if you’re determined to make this an unpleasant experience there’s really nothing I can do to change it.” Darhk waited, an almost genial expression on his face, as though he’d just asked her if she had the time.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to respond he sighed and crouched down to lay the tray on the floor in front of her. “Very well then. I must say, you’re a very rude guest, Ms. Smoak. Even Mr. Palmer had the kind manners to thank me when I brought him sustenance. I see I’ll get no such gratitude from you.”

“It won’t work,” Felicity said suddenly. Her voice sounded hoarse, shredded at the edges from lack of use. How long had she been out? A few hours? A day? More? Her eyes flicked to his face. He was watching her, curiously almost. Waiting.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” he said. “But I assure you, if I planned it, it will work.”

“You want to use me as bait to lure him here.” Felicity licked her lips. The bottom one was split down the middle. It stung fiercely. “That’s your plan right? Well, it won’t work.” She tried to swallow but that hurt too. Everything hurt, actually. Her very nerve endings were aflame. But that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was convincing Darhk he’d made a huge mistake. “Oliver’s smarter than this. He won’t fall for your trap.”

“Ms. Smoak. Felicity. Do you mind if I call you Felicity?”

“Ms. Smoak is fine.” For all of his fine suits and glinting cufflinks, the carefully combed hair and talk of renewed civilization, Damian Darhk was the basest creature she had ever encountered. Human life meant nothing to him. He was despicable. But Felicity wouldn’t waste her breath telling him so. He’d probably take it as a compliment anyway.

A hint of a smile twitched across Darkh’s face. His thumb ghosted over her cheek bone. Felicity’s empty stomach roiled and she fought the urge to turn her head away. Instead she raised her chin, meeting his eyes defiantly.

“Such spirit,” he sighed. “You are truly one of a kind. And that’s exactly why you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?” The words escaped without her permission.

“Of course your boyfriend, excuse me—” Darhk’s pale eyes flicked to the ring on Felicity’s left hand “ — fiancé, knows this is a trap. It simply doesn’t matter. He loves you too much to care. He’ll gladly turn himself over and consider it a good deal as long as it means you go free.That’s the beauty of love. It makes people do crazy things like forgo self-preservation. Love can be quite useful if handled properly. What other emotion has such utility?”

Felicity wanted to deny it. Both to herself and Darhk. If Oliver couldn’t find another way…he’d have to let her go. The city needed him too much to lose him now. Not for her. Definitely not for her. But she couldn’t. Because she knew Oliver to his bones and Darhk was right. He’d give himself up in a heart beat if it meant saving someone he loved. So she spat at him because it was the only thing could do.

The globule caught him in the chest and for a second he just stared down at it, his face caught halfway between surprise and disgust.

Then the backhand caught her across the face. Stars exploded before her eyes as her head snapped back into the wall behind her. She tasted blood.

Darhk stood, clucking his tongue. He dabbed at his lapel with paisley handkerchief conjured from his pocket. “So vulgar. If I can’t stand one thing, it’s vulgarity. Suddenly I’m glad I planned to kill you whether Mr. Queen turned himself over or not. Maybe I’ll even let him watch. That could be fun.” He lowered the handkerchief and stared down at her. The false cordiality was gone, replaced by a look of pure malice and something else Felicity couldn’t identify. Glee, she realized after a moment. He was enjoying this. His eyes widened. “What do you say, Ms. Smoak? Will you help me put on a show?

Felicity’s mouth was full of blood; she’d bitten deep into her tongue. Her head was still ringing, although the white light had begun to recede from the edges of her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture Oliver. Oliver’s face when she’d agreed to marry him. The funny wrinkle that appeared between his brows when he was cooking. The sound of his laughter. Just Oliver. Just him.

There was a soft click and Felicity assumed someone had opened the door for Darhk. “Good evening, Ms. Smoak,” he said joyfully. “I do hope you enjoy the meal. I expect it will be your last.”

The door creaked as it was pulled shut and Felicity was plunged back into darkness.


	24. Breakfast

“Felicity. Honey. Darling. Sweetheart. What exactly are you doing?”

“Making scrambled eggs. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“I mean, what are you doing with that metal spatula and my best non-stick pan?”

“…is that bad?”

“Is that bad? Is that _bad?_ ”

“I’m getting the feeling that it’s bad. Here, look, I’m putting it down. No more metal spatula on the pan.”

“Oh, no, please continue. It’ll just scrap off the non-stick seal rendering the whole thing pointless but really that’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Okay, I get it. There’s no need to get hysterical.”

“I’m not hysterical, Felicity. This is an appropriate reaction to finding out that your wife uses metal spatulas on your non-stick pans. How long has this been going on anyway?”

“You’re making it sound like I was cheating on you or something.”

“Oh, I’d way rather you were cheating on me.”

“Oliver!”

“That’s an All-Clad Stainless Tri-Ply nonstick frying pan. It cost $250.”

“…”

“What?”

“You spent $250 on a frying pan?”

“It’s a really good frying pan. It’s the best frying pan out there. Consumer Reports gave it five Stars.”

“…”

“So maybe I should have consulted you first.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“But I really wanted it.”

“I understand that, sweetheart.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Will you forgive me for using a metal spatula on it?”

“…”

“Oliver.”

“I’ll try.”

“Then I will try to forgive you for spending $250 on it in the first place.”

“Fair enough. By the way, your eggs are burned. And do they look greenish to you?”

“Yeah well, that was a lost cause to begin with. Breakfast is your responsibility from now on, you spendthrift.”

“My pleasure. What do you want to eat?”

“Actually…I was thinking about what you might want to eat.”

“Back to bed?”

“Hurry, please.”


	25. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a lil Hanukkah fluff to temper the angst of the last episode!

“What is it?”

“It’s a yarmulke. Jewish men wear them when they go to temple. Some women too if they want.”

“Oh.”

“I just thought if we ever went to temple together… I don’t go that often—just on the high holidays usually. And you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to! But I thought if you wanted to and you wanted to wear one you might like to have your own. They usually have some there but who knows how many people have worn those and— are you crying?”

“It’s the onions.”

“Onions? You mean the ones you cut for omelets this morning? Oliver. That was like ten hours ago.”

“Sometimes the residue stays in the air for a really long time, Felicity.”

“Oh, babe, I didn’t mean to make you cry. You don’t have to wear the yarmulke if you don’t want to.”

“Hey, wait a minute give that back it’s mine.”

“You want it?”

“Of course I want it. It’s amazing. I’m just — no one’s ever really given me a gift like this before. It was usually like…money for bail. Or a yacht.”

“Oh. Well, okay. Here then.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How does it look?”

“Perfect. Green really is your color.”

“Am I allowed to kiss you while I’m wearing this?”

“I’d be highly offended if you didn’t.”

“C’mere.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Oliver.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Felicity.”


	26. Dreams (post 4.09 fic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spoilerish sort of if you haven't watch 4.09. 
> 
> I don't actually think she's gonna die. But the angst demands to be written.

After the funeral Oliver goes to sleep and doesn’t wake up until 1 pm the next day. It becomes a pattern; he sleeps more than he’s ever slept in his life. Sometimes til noon. Sometimes til 2. He tells every one he’s just tired but really he’s hoping he’ll dream of her. 

Most nights he doesn’t dream at all and the hours stretch out before him, long and dark and empty. Sometimes he has nightmares. He hears her scream as Darhk’s men pull her away from him. He feels the slickness of her blood on his hands. But sometimes… sometimes he does dream. He catches glimpses of her stealing through his mind. A shard of her laughter. The brush of her lips against his hot forehead. It’s not enough but it’s all he has left so he sleeps and hopes and protests whenever someone tries to drag him from their bed to do stupid things like eat or shave.

“You can’t live like this, Oliver,” Thea says one afternoon when she stops by after work. She bends down to scoop up a rancid Chinese takeout container off the living room floor and glances at him where he’s slumped into the couch wearing the same pair of sweats he’s worn for the past two days. “Felicity wouldn’t want you to.”

Of course she wouldn’t. He knows that. But she wouldn’t want to be dead either so it’s a lose-lose situation no matter how you look at it.

“Ollie,” Thea sighs, dropping onto the couch next to him. “I know you’re hurting. But you still have things to live for— people who need you. Don’t give up on us, okay?” His eyes slide to her. She gives him a small smile and squeezes his knee. 

“Okay,” he mumbles.

She leaves soon after, saying she’ll be back tomorrow to check up on him. She leaves behind three casseroles and a few sandwiches from the deli on Sixth and Dyer (she can’t cook any better than Felicity could) and the express command that he at least take a shower and put on some different clothes.

He stays on the couch for a while, watching the rich afternoon light march across the walls. When the apartment is completely saturated in gold, he forces himself up and walks the what feels like a hundred miles to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and waits until the water gets as hot as it will go before he steps in. Steam swirls around him and the pounding stream sears his skin, turning him pink like boiled lobster. His body, which has felt taut, pulled tight like a stretched rubber band, relaxes slightly. His shoulders slump. Thea was right, he thinks. Maybe this is what he needed. 

Opening his eyes, he reaches for the soap. Instead, his hand closes around her shampoo. Slowly he picks it up, flips open the top. The smell of strawberries drifts up to tickle his nose and for a moment it’s like she’s there, with him—

Not dead. Not dead. She can’t be dead.

He drops the bottle, a sob wrenching free as he slides down the glass, cradling his head in his hands. He stays there a long time. Eventually the hot water runs out. The steam evaporates, and with it the smell of strawberries. Oliver stands, forces himself to dry off and pull on a pair of clean pajamas like his sister ordered. The sun dips below the Star City skyline as he crawls back into bed, flooding the rooftops around the loft with pale pink and orange light, but he doesn’t see it. 

All he sees is her.

Felicity standing at the kitchen counter with her nose scrunched as she inspects her latest culinary failure. Felicity lying on her back in their bed reading the latest issue of Technology Today. Felicity covered in light blue paint the day they painted the guest room in the house in Ivy Town. This would make a good nursery, he’d thought at the time. He hadn’t said it though. They’d have plenty of time for that in the future, he’d thought. Plenty of time.

Back in Star City, Oliver buries his face in her pillow and closes his eyes. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll dream of her.


	27. 3 am

“Whatcha you doin’?”

At the sound of Felicity’s voice Oliver looked up from mess of crib parts in front of him. “Just...trying to put this thing together.”

“Now?” Felicity lowered herself to the floor beside him. It took her a while to maneuver it around her swollen belly. “Honey, it’s three in the morning.”

Oliver averted her gaze as he picked through the pile of slats and legs and bars. “Yeah, well, all the parenting books say three in the morning is the best time to do it.”

“Do they now,” Felicity said wryly.

Oliver nodded and picked up one of the crib’s bars. Or was it one of the legs? All the damn pieces looked exactly the same. “Mhm. All of them.”

Felicity gently took the bar out of his hands and set it on her other side where he couldn’t reach it. “Oliver look at me. Look at me. The baby is not coming tonight. The crib can wait until it’s light out.”

“I just want to get this done. You go back. I’ll be there soon.”

Felicity sighed. She leaned back against the wall, her hands settling atop her bump. “Fine, in that case I’ll sit up with you. I thought of a few more names I wanted to run by you anyway. What do you think of Fox for a boy?”

Oliver wrinkled his nose. “Fox? Like the animal?”

“Like Fox Mulder, actually. From the X-Files.”

“I thought his first name was Spooky,” Oliver said with a half-smile.

Felicity smiled triumphantly. “Oh, so you were paying attention. I knew you weren’t asleep.”

“Not the whole time,” Oliver admitted. “I did fall asleep toward the end. And I’m going to have to veto Fox, sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Felicity sighed and ran her hands down her stomach. She stuck her bottom lip out thoughtfully. “I wasn’t hugely attached to it. And I’m pretty sure it’s a girl anyway. What about Dana?”

“Dana’s nice,” Oliver murmured. “That would be alright.” He stared blankly at the sheet of directions that had come with the crib. He had no idea what they said said; it was all in Swedish. 

“Oliver,” Felicity said softly, “are you going to tell me the real reason you’re in here trying to build a crib in the dark?”

There was a long moment of silence. Moonlight slipped through the curtains then fled again just as quickly. 

“I feel like we just found out you were pregnant yesterday,” Oliver said quietly. He glanced at his wife. She was listening with a carefully blank expression, her hands clasped lightly atop her stomach. “I thought we had so much time to prepare for this kid but now you’re seven months and I’m...I’m kind of freaking out a bit.” He tossed the directions away. “I can’t even put a crib together. How am I going to take care of another person?”

“You take care of me all the time,” Felicity pointed out. “That foot message the other day?" She flashed the A-ok hand sign. "Heaven.”

Oliver shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

The directions had floated down by Felicity’s foot. She picked them up, eyebrows rising slightly. “They didn’t speak Swedish on Lian Yu, huh?”

“No,” Oliver said crossly. “They did not.”

Felicity looked up at him. “Oliver, we’re going to be fine. You know how I know?”

He shrugged.

She took his hand and squeezed it. “Because we’re going to do this together. Sure you might mess up sometimes, and so will I, but we’ll help each other. Where one of us falters, the other will pick up the slack.” She shook her head, smiling. “Who do you think is going to pack the kid’s lunches when they start school? Cause it’s sure as heck not gonna be me. So don’t worry so much. Okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver said softly.

“Good. Then let’s go back to bed. I’d like to get at least one more hour of sleep before I have to wake up again to pee.” Felicity struggled to get up and fell back on her butt. She grimaced at him. “Help, please.”

Chuckling, Oliver stood and offered her his hands. Felicity took them and he pulled her easily to her feet. 

“Phew. Thanks.” She clapped him on the arm, grinning. “See you’re plenty useful already.”

Oliver cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned into his palm with a happy hum. “I love you, Felicity Queen.”

“I love you, too,” she said. She turned her face to press a kiss to his hand. “You know what I also love? My pillow. Come on, you big softie.”

They went back to bed.


	28. The Runner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~takes place right after they move to Ivy Town~

Oliver was standing at the stove in his sweatpants when Felicity got home with a large bag of groceries. He glanced up as she entered the kitchen and dropped her keys into the small bowl on the counter. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“Good." Felicity slid onto one of the kitchen stools and gratefully took the mug of coffee he handed her. “Thank you. I got everything on your list. And I even made a friend.”

“A friend?” Oliver asked, amused. 

“Mhm.” Felicity lifted her mug to her face, letting the steam wash over her. “This older lady from the specialty foods store.” 

“That’s nice.” Oliver turned off the stove, slid the eggs he'd been cooking onto a large plate that already held buttered toast and some cut up fruit, and carried it to the counter.

“She tried to set me up,” Felicity continued, watching Oliver's face, a small smile dancing at the corner of her lips. “Apparently there’s a right handsome devil living somewhere in this neighborhood. She said something about God only carving one face like that a century.”

Oliver handed her a fork and slid onto the stool opposite her, his expression impassive. “Sounds like quite a guy.”

“He really does,” Felicity said, heaping eggs onto her toast. “Apparently he’s a runner. You should have heard her, Oliver. This lady made ‘runner’ sound like some kind of sexual euphemism. This guy runs past her house every day while she’s out doing her morning gardening. Sometimes, he’s even shirtless.” 

Oliver unfolded the newspaper, his voice carefully neutral. “Kind of seems like a show off to me.

Felicity shrugged and lifted her toast to her mouth. “I guess. She thinks he's some kind of Adonis. I told her I have a boyfriend but she was pretty insistent." She sighed. "Ah well. At least, if I ever did want to check him out it’d be convenient.”

Oliver looked up from the newspaper. “I don't follow.”

Felicity dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. "I just meant that Susan, that’s my friend’s name, Susan. Well, she said she asked around and apparently the guy she wants to set me up with lives in this very house. Isn't that a coincidence?" Felicity's eyes sparkled. "I didn’t tell her how strange it was, considering I live at this address too and I’ve never seen him.”

A smile spread slowly across Oliver’s face. "That is pretty strange. So what are you going to do?"

Felicity cocked her head to the side. “What am I going to do about what?”

“Well, you have to choose, obviously,” Oliver said, waving his hand indifferently. “Between this other guy and me.”

“Oh, of course.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, leaning toward him. “Well, I was thinking some kind of contest.”

“A contest?”

Felicity nodded, her eyes flickering down to Oliver's lips. “Yeah. Something involving running. Hit all the important points. You know, there's speed...tempo...” Her eyes slid back up to Oliver's. “And then there's endurance—” 

Oliver was off his stool and around the counter so fast Felicity barely had the chance to catch her breath before he was sweeping her off her seat, his hands clasped tightly beneath her ass. Her legs rose instinctually to halo around his hips. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said, nodding emphatically. “In fact I think we should get started right now.” 

Felicity dragged a thumb across his bottom lip, grinning. “Take me to bed, Adonis.”


	29. Cold Feet

“Oliver, I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I just think maybe we should have thought this through a little bit longer, that’s all.”

“I understand but I think it might be kind of late for that.”

“No, no. Don’t say that. It’s not too late. It can’t be too late, okay. Just turn the car around and we’ll go home and we’ll talk about this some more.”

“Felicity, your water just broke. I’m not turning the car around. Why don’t you just try some of those breathing exercises—”

“I don’t want to do breathing exercises, Oliver. I want to go home. In fact, I want to go back nine months to when I agreed that it would be a good idea for me to try and shove something the size of a watermelon out my vagina.”

“You can do this. I know it’s scary but you’re going to do amazing—”

“Oliver. I’m going to poop myself, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Well…yeah. That might happen. But so what? It happens to lots of people. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Why did I think it would be a good idea to marry someone who’s twice the size of me? This baby is going to be huge. And I am not a large person. In fact, by most standards I’m a small person. I should have married Pete from Finance. He’s like 5’1”. Our babies would have been tiny. I mean, what if it gets stuck?”

“The baby’s not going to get stuck, sweetheart. I promise you.”

“So it doesn’t get stuck. That’s almost worse. That means it’s actually going to come out.”

“…that is generally what happens in these situations.”

“No more baby bump. Just…baby.”

“Felicity, we’re ready. We’ve planned for this. We have a support system. And we have each other. We can do this.”

“Everything’s going to be different now.”

“Yeah, it is. But we’ve wanted to start a family for a long time. You still want that?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then everything else will fall into place. You’ll see.”

“You’re going to stay with me the whole time, right? No running off to catch a bad guy?”

“There’s not a evil plot in the world that could make me miss this.”

“Even if I poop?”

“Even if you poop.”


	30. Summer Nights

Oliver waited until Felicity was snoring on his shoulder and then he gently slid the tv remote from her lax fingers. She snuffled once and Oliver froze but she just sighed and relaxed further against his side. 

“Okay,” Oliver murmured to himself. “Daddy’s got the remote now. Let’s see how the Rockets are doing, shall we?” On the TV, a blue haired woman trying on a pouffy wedding dress disappeared, replaced by the Rockets vs Red Sox game. It was top of the seventh, 2 outs, and the Rockets were leading 3-2. Oliver settled back against the pillows, contentment burgeoning in his chest. He had a cold beer on the side table, his wife was curled up beside him, and the Rockets’ were winning.

The perfect summer night. 

“Oliver.” Felicity stirred against Oliver’s shoulder. She struggled to sit up. “Oliver, put it back. I was watching that.”

“Sh, hon,” Oliver said, using his most soothing voice. “You had a long day. Go back to sleep.”

“No.” Felicity’s eyes were open now, though Oliver could see how much effort it was taking her to keep them that way. “No, it's my night to have the remote.” She scrubbed a fist across her bleary eyes. "Put it back.”

“Felicity, you don’t even know what that show is called,” Oliver said, trying to be reasonable.

“Yes, I do,” Felicity insisted. She dropped her hand into her lap. “It’s called…it’s called…you know what it doesn’t matter what it’s called. It’s my night to have the remote. You had it every night last week to watch that weird post apocalypse survival thing.”

“And you didn’t pay attention at all. When the apocalypse comes don’t expect me to protect you.”

Felicity smirked. “I won’t need you to protect me, darling. I already had a post apocalypse bunker installed under Queen Inc. It’s got wifi and a lifetime supply of gummy bears and only I know the password. Now give me the remote.” 

“Take it from me and you can have it." Felicity made swipe for it but Oliver dangled it out of her reach. “You don’t even know what you were watching, Felicity!”

Felicity tried to scramble across Oliver’s lap, reaching for the remote. “It’s the principle,” she grunted, “of the thing! Now give it to me!”

“No way.”

“Come on, Oliver—”

“Ow, watch my face—”

“Oh, suck it up, pretty boy— hey, don’t you dare. Don't you dare tickle me, Oliver Queen!" She shrieked as Oliver dug his fingers into her ribs and collapsed on top of him. Sharp bursts of laughter tore form her body as she tried to roll herself into a protective ball. “Stop,” she gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t— please—”

“Can I watch the game?” 

“Fine! Fine you cheater, you can watch the stupid game just no more tickling!”

“Thank you.” Oliver stop tickling her. Felicity peeked at him from beneath a bird’s nest of blond hair. 

“Pinky promise you won't tickle me anymore.”

“I pinky promise.” Oliver held up his pinky. Felicity fetched her hand out from under her chest and hooker her little finger around his. 

“No breaking a pinky promise,” she warned. 

“I would never.”

His wife pffed a lock of hair out of her face. She was splayed on top of him in her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of daisy printed underwear and one of Oliver’s undershirts. The t-shirt had ridden up her rib cage as she writhed against him, leaving an expanse of silky skin bare to his gaze. Felicity dropped her chin onto one of her hands, eyes sparkling as she smiled up at him. “Hi.”

Oliver trailed his fingers up and down her sides, grinning. “Hey, there.”

Felicity wriggled on top of him. “You're pretty comfy.” Her pelvis ground right against his lap and Oliver felt his pants becoming uncomfortably tight.

“I’m glad I make a good pillow.”

“You make an excellent pillow.” Felicity crawled up his body a few inches to kiss the underside of of his jaw. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, her small palms hot against his bare chest. Oliver moved instinctively. He caught her lips in a searing kiss. His hands slid over the swell of her daisy covered backside and he squeezed it— God, he loved her ass. “Oliver,” Felicity moaned. She nipped at his lips and her tongue flicking out to tease him. She sat up suddenly. She was straddling his hips now and she looked beautifully rumpled as she leaned back and gazed down at him from heavy lidded eyes. 

“Felicity,” Oliver said hoarsely. “Please.”

“You know, hon, you're really are easily distracted.”

“Wha—?” 

Felicity dove off him toward coffee table where he’d dropped the remote when she’d started to kiss him. “Yes!” She punched the remote into the air. “I believe that is wife 1, husband 0.”

Oliver lay on the couch in a confused daze. “What…what just happened.”

“I believe the technical term is ‘you got played’, my friend.” Felicity slung her leg off him and fell back against the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest. She pointed the remote at the TV and the bridal show was back. Oliver struggled to sit up, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. 

“So we're not…we're not having sex right now?”

“Nope,” Felicity said cheerily. “Oh god, that dress is stunning. Don’t you just love a nice A-line?”

“We’re not having sex and we’re also not watching the game.”

Felicity patted his knee consolingly. “Now you’re getting it.” 

Oliver was getting desperate. “Can we at least have sex later?”

Felicity settled back against his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. You know these bridal shows always make me horny.” She yawned wide and snuggled back into his side the way she’d been earlier. “Now just relax and enjoy the show.” She yawned again.

A smile spread across Oliver's face. “Felicity, are you falling asleep?”

She struggled to keep her eyes opened. “No. M’awake. Totally awake. All the way…wake.” Her eyes drifted shut. Oliver sat still as a statue. A few minutes later she was snoring again. Oliver dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “Sweet dreams, my love,” he whispered. As gently as he could, he slid the remote from her fingers.


	31. 4.16 spec

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not going to happen like this. That's okay.

“You ready?”

Felicity glanced up. Oliver was standing in the doorway to her dressing room. He cut a fine line in his black tux with a small white lily pinned to the lapel.

Felicity looked back to the floor length mirror in front of her and tugged at the bodice of her dress. “Yeah, I just…this dress won’t stay up. I borrowed it from someone at work and she’s twice my height. I’m drowning.”

He shook his head. “You look beautiful.” 

A small smile tugging at Felicity’s lips. “Hey, I thought it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?”

Oliver hesitated. “I didn’t think—”

“I’m kidding, Oliver,” Felicity said. “It’s fine.”

“Right.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just still trying to figure this out. Us.”

Felicity fiddled with the tiny beads along her waistline. “I’m still me,” she said. “You’re still you.” Her eyes flicked up to catch Oliver’s in the mirror. His face was unreadable as usual. How come she was from Vegas and he was the one with the perfect poker face? “We should probably go.” Felicity made to step down from the dais but her foot caught in the hem of the dress and she pitched forward. In a flash, Oliver was beside her. He caught her by the elbow and gently righted her.

“Thanks,” she breathed. The hand cupping her elbow was warm and the smell of his aftershave wrapped around her, familiar and comforting. Maybe she lingered. Maybe he did. Neither moved. For a brief moment Felicity imagined herself saying I’m ready to forgive you. I was mad and hurt that you didn’t trust me but I’m ready to try again. Let’s start over, okay? It would be so easy. The words were right there, on the tip of her tongue. But it would be a lie. And lies were what got them into this mess in the first place. She refused to revive their relationship by telling another. 

They shifted apart, Felicity’s gown rustling softly. Oliver’s hands dropped to his sides. Felicity was aching for his touch almost before he’d let go. Before she knew what she was doing she had reached out and squeezed his fingers, just one tiny squeeze before letting go again. It had been weeks since she’d given him back the ring. So maybe she wasn’t ready to try again. She was also done pretending that she didn’t miss him. That her body didn’t ache for him. That she couldn’t picture a future, someday, where maybe they could work past all this and be together again. 

Oliver lifted his eyes to hers, questioning. “Now don’t let this go to your head,” Felicity said. “But you look pretty handsome yourself.” 

His smile came slow, and it was only fraction of what it had been a month ago. But it was there. And it was because of her. Felicity couldn’t help smiling back. “So are we doing this or what?”

“You lead,” Oliver said, nodding to the door. “I’ll follow you.”


	32. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver tells Felicity about the first time he saw her 
> 
> **Fluff. Pure unadulterated fluff. Ye have been warned.**

The moon hung like chipped tooth in the clear night sky. Its reflection rippled gently across the black water to the narrow beach where Oliver and Felicity were lying in a hammock strung between two palm trees.

“Hey, Oliver,” Felicity said.

Oliver’s eyes had been drifting shut. He forced them open again. “Hm?”

“Were you sleeping?”

“Just resting my eyes. What is it?”

“What’s you favorite memory?” Felicity immediately qualified: “It doesn’t have to be your ultimate, definitive one. I know that’s hard. Just a good one. One that makes you happy.”

Oliver’s fingers skimmed lightly down Felicity’s arm as he considered his answer. Everywhere he touched tiny goosebumps popped up like constellations along her skin. “Can I give you two?” he said finally.

“You can give me as many as you want. I’ve got all night.”

Oliver smiled. “Okay. The first one was during Christmas vacation when I was twelve. It snowed. A lot. That didn’t happen very often. I think it snowed twice my entire childhood, but that year we got a few feet of it. Tommy and I made a snow fort behind the house.” Oliver paused, remembering the way his fingers had turned numb after minutes, Tommy’s breath forming little ghosts in the air as he carved ramparts into the wall of snow. The grey sky had pressed down on them like a heavy blanket as the white landscape expanded endlessly in all directions. “We stayed out there all day. Even got Thea to bring us snacks so we didn’t have to go inside to eat.”

Felicity’s fingers curled into the neck of his t-shirt. “Do you think about him a lot?” she asked softly. “Tommy?”

Oliver watched the stars play hide and seek between the swaying palm fronds above their heads. “Every day,” he said, and there was a wistfulness behind his words that made Felicity want to wrap him up even tighter in her arms and never let him go. But when his eyes fell back to her, he was smiling. “He would have liked you.”

Felicity smiled back. “How do you know?”

Oliver lifted his eyebrows. “Because you make me happy.”

Felicity's arm tightened around his waist. For a moment they were silent, the sound of the ocean lulling them back into their private thoughts. Then Felicity said, “And the second memory?”

“Ah. That would be the first time I saw you.”

“You mean the first time we met?”

“No. The first time I saw you.”

Felicity frowned. “Explain that sentence.”

“Do you remember that I told you I came back to Starling once during the five years I was missing?”

Felicity nodded. “You saw Thea.”

“Not just Thea,” Oliver said. “I also went to Queen Consolidated. You were there, in my mom’s office. There was a picture of my dad and I on her desk. You talked to it.” The corners of his eyes crinkled at the memory.

“What?” Felicity said, aghast. “I did not!”

Oliver grinned. “You did. You said, ‘You’re cute. Too bad you’re dead.’”

Felicity covered her face in her hands and then peeked at him through a crack in her fingers. “Oh, god, I think I remember— you were there for that?”

“It was the first time I smiled in a long time,” Oliver said. “I’d kind of forgotten what it felt like. Felt good. I had no idea…” he trailed off.

“No idea?” 

Their eyes locked together. Felicity’s felt her cheeks flush for no reason other than the intensity of his gaze. “That I’d just laid eyes on the best part of my life,” Oliver said.

Something like birds’ wings fluttered in Felicity’s chest. For a man who reveled in secrecy, Oliver was unabashedly open about his feelings for her. Felicity supposed she should be used to it by now but she wasn’t, and wasn’t sure she ever would be. “Oliver,” she murmured.

“What’s yours?” he asked. “Your favorite memory?”

“Well, if you had asked me a minute ago I would have said the day I got to touch a Satellite Frequency Communicator TX50.” 

“But now?”

Felicity dropped her head back onto Oliver’s chest. Her hand slid under the hem of his t-shirt to rest against his hot skin. “Now it’s this. Right here. With you.”

She could hear the smile in Oliver’s voice. “That’s kind of sappy.”

Felicity kicked his calf. “Oh, be quiet.”

“Kiss me and I will.”

The laugh that fell from her lips was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. “If that’s what it takes.”

She kissed him. Overhead the stars winked their approval.


	33. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after 4.23. Oliver and Felicity go on their (second) first date.

“So it’s over,” Felicity said.

“For now.” Oliver’s eyes followed the Argus van until it disappeared around the corner. Then he turned to look at Felicity. The late afternoon sunlight glinted off her hair, turning it to burnished gold as she shook her head incredulously. 

“Come on, Queen. You did good. Just let yourself have this one.”

A smile tugged at Oliver’s mouth. “Talking myself out of a victory is one of the things I do best, remember?”

“Ah, yes.” Felicity rocked back on her heels. “Now that you mention it that does sound familiar.”

They fell silent. A breeze rustled the branches of the flowered tree overhead and a few white petals drifted down onto their shoulders. Star City was already returning to normal; for the first time in days no sirens wailed in the distance. Just a dog barking and taxis honking. On the other side of the street pipes clanged as a construction crew hoisted them into place, already hard at work repairing the damage left in Darhk’s wake.

“So—” Oliver said. 

“Did you wanna—” Felicity said at the same time.

“Sorry, what?” Oliver asked.

Felicity hesitated. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to grab some dinner. Taking down a super villain always kind of gives me the munchies and I thought maybe you were hungry too. But if you’re not that’s totally fine—”

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted. He felt like it had been months since he’d heard her ramble. Years. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it. “I’d love to.”

“Yes?” Felicity said. She looked slightly taken aback like she hadn’t really held out hope he’d accept. “Oh. Okay. Good.”

After a brief pause Oliver said, “Now? Or—?”

“Now is good,” Felicity said quickly. “I mean…now…now is good.” She took a deep breath. “Now is good.” 

“So…let’s go?”

Felicity smiled, her cheeks were slightly flushed as she pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Let’s go.”

They started off down the sidewalk, Oliver shortening his stride to match hers.

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Oliver said. “I finished the Deathly Hollows. It was good but I feel like it would have been better without the epilogue.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“What?”

“I thought you were gonna say you liked it. The epilogue, I mean.”

“No. Definitely not. What kind of name is Albus Severus?”

“A horrible one. Truly awful. Like Harry would name a kid after Snape before Lupin or Hagrid.”

“That’s what I thought!”

“Cause it’s true! Can I just say how glad I am that we agree on this?”

They turned the corner and kept going. There was not a cloud in the sky.


	34. Improper Behavior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during the summer of love

Felicity shielded her eyes as she stepped onto the little pool deck outside their bungalow. The blistering Bali sun threw diamonds across the surface of the pool, dazzling her. It had been like this every day since they’d arrived: searing blue skies, swaying palm trees, the smell of the ocean tickling her nose…

Paradise.

The deck blistered Felicity’s feet as she walked to the edge of the pool. Oliver had gone to sleep on a blow up raft in the middle of the water, a Star City Rockets cap pulled low over his face. 

“Oliver,” Felicity said. She kicked some water at him for good measure.

Oliver roused himself and tipped the hat out of his face. He frowned up at her. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”

“I can’t find any of my bathing suits.” Felicity raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“No,” Oliver said, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Really? Not a clue?”

“Not a one.” His eyes eyes sparkled. Liar, Felicity thought. She narrowed her eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” he said innocently.

“I’m not going to skinny dip. So you can just give it up right now and tell me where my suits are.”

Oliver rolled off the raft and swam frog-like to the side of the pool. Hanging himself off the edge, he wrapped his wet hands around Felicity’s ankles. They were cool against her hot skin. A tiny shiver skated up her spine. “No one will see.” He pressed a kiss to the front of her calf. 

“They might,” Felicity said. “I’m not some kind of exhibitionist.”

“Oh?” Oliver said. “What about the ferris wheel in Portland?”

Felicity felt a little breathless. Maybe because of the heat. Maybe because Oliver had started skating his fingers up and down the backs of her calves, a little higher each time. Maybe because the memory of Oliver’s hand pushing between her legs as their cab swung from the top of the Portland ferris wheel had just jumped to the forefront of her mind. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut. “That…that was a one time thing.”

“Mhm.” Oliver kissed her calf again. “No one will see, Felicity. Come in. The water’s fine.”

Felicity opened her eyes. Oliver was gazing up at her, his blue eyes electric in the bright sunshine. She could feel herself wearing down. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very devious man?”

Oliver grinned. “I’ve been called worse.” He tugged on her hand. “Come here.” Felicity gave in. Crouching down, she took his face in her hands and kissed him. The world seemed to pull into focus around her. The sun hot on her back, Oliver’s stubble rough beneath her fingers, the sound of the waves crashing not far away— all of it thrown into sharp relief. Oliver tasted like sunscreen and the vanilla chapstick he kept stealing from her purse. He tasted like happiness. 

Felicity heard herself sigh. 

After a minute she pulled away and whispered, “If I’m going to skinny dip it’s not going to be in a pool.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

Felicity stood up and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Oliver called after her. Felicity threw him a glance over her shoulder. “To the beach. Are you coming?”

It took him five seconds: he leapt out of the pool, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her over his shoulder. “Oliver!” Felicity gasped. Her sudden peal of laughter was caught by a gust of wind and carried up, up, up to the cloudless sky above.

“I really hope that was a rhetorical question,” he said, and he slapped her on the backside.

 

 

Some distance away Mrs. Albert Murray-Jones of Chiswick just outside London, let out a little shriek and nearly dropped her binoculars. “Albert! Albert, come here!”

Her husband set down his margarita— not a drink he would have ordered back home, mind you, but here…well, who would know?— and joined his wife at the balcony. “What is it?” he said. “Surely there’s no need to scream.”

His wife handed him the binoculars and pointed down the beach at something invisible to the naked eye. “I was looking for dolphins and I saw…well, just look…and in plain view of the other bungalows!”

Albert lifted the binoculars to his eyes and almost immediately dropped them again. Far down the beach two young people were frolicking in the turquoise water; they seemed to have lost their swimming attire. He handed his wife back the binoculars. “I don’t know if it counts as ‘in plain view’ if you have to use binoculars to see them, dear.”

His wife ignored this. “Young people these day,” she said, pressing the binoculars back to her eyes. “No shame. If their mothers could see them…”

“You could stop looking,” Albert pointed out.

His wife waved this away. “That’s really not the point, is it! I mean, I never… we really should report them.” She was leaning so far over the balcony that any second now she was going to tip over and fall to the sand below. Thankfully, it was a short drop.

“Whatever you like, dear.” Albert frowned at the dregs of his margarita. He’d told himself he’d only have the one but something about that young couple’s display had awoken a sense of rebelliousness in him that he hadn’t felt since his Oxford days. To hell with it. He was going to get another margarita and there was nothing anyone could say about it. “Extra salt this time.” He giggled. “And two umbrellas!” All of sudden he felt positively giddy. It was a beautiful day, he didn’t have to go back to dreary London for another three days…the world was full of endless possibility.

From very far away he thought he could hear the couple laughing.


	35. Like Riding a Bike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver discovers Felicity never learned how to ride a bike

One grey skied morning in early September Oliver came home from the market to find Felicity standing at the kitchen window in her pajamas. Oliver set the groceries on the counter and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I missed you,” he murmured. He turned his face into the curve of her neck, savoring the warmth of her sleepy body.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she leaned back into him. “You were only gone forty-five minutes.”

Oliver pressed a kiss to her neck. “Exactly.” His eyes followed hers to the street beyond the window. A little boy in a red jacket was zooming up and down the pavement on a flame painted bicycle. “Robbie’s doing pretty good without the training wheels.”

“Oliver,” Felicity said suddenly. She turned in his arms, her hands settling on his chest as she gazed up at him. “Do you know how to ride a bike?” Oliver didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing her like this: hair still mussed from bed, cheeks pale, edges softened by the morning light.

He tucked a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t?”

Felicity looked slightly miffed. “There aren’t really any bike paths in downtown Vegas. And we never had the money for one anyway.”

The memory took him by surprise: him and Tommy at nine, flying down the grounds behind the Queen manor on their eight speed mountain bikes. Raisa yelled from the balcony not to trample the roses but her voice faded away as they sped further and further from the house, green grass rushing beneath their wheels, the sky a cornflower blue dome above– It was one of Oliver’s favorite memories. “I’ll teach you,” he blurted.

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to teach me to ride a bike?”

“Why not?”

Felicity plucked at the front of his shirt. “Well…have you ever taught someone before?”

“No. But it’ll be fine. Better than fine. It’ll be great. Don’t you want to learn?”

Felicity bit her lip as glanced back to the window just as Robbie sped by again, his little legs pumping furiously at the pedals. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Oliver’s face broke into a smile. “Yeah?”

Felicity laughed. “Yeah.” She rose up on her toes to wind her arms around his neck. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Oliver grinned against her lips. “You know this means you have to call me sensei.”

Felicity shook her head and kissed him again. “Mm, yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Master and padawan?”

“Keep dreaming, Queen.”

“Look, we finally have an excuse to act out the Obi-Wan fantasy of yours.”

Felicity jerked away from him, her jaw on the floor. “How do you know about that?”

Oliver shrugged. “You talk in your sleep.”

Felicity’s cheeks were the color of a tomato. “Oh my god.” She covered her face in her hands. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“So we’ll go with sensei then?”


	36. Like Riding a Bike, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver teaches Felicity to ride a bike, part deux

They bought her a dark purple bike and and a bright pink helmet. After they put the bike in the car Oliver said “wait here” and disappeared back into the store. A minute later he returned with a small bag.

Felicity tried to catch a peek as Oliver slid into the driver’s seat. “What’s that?”

“A surprise,” Oliver said, shooing her away with his hand. “Now put your seatbelt on.”

Felicity clucked her tongue. “So bossy today.” But she did as he said.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they pulled back into their driveway. Towering white clouds sallied across the cornflower blue firmament, trees rustling softly in the breeze. The sunshine was warm on their backs as Oliver and Felicity rolled the new bike down to the end of the quiet cul-de-sac. Oliver handed her the bag from the store. 

Felicity pulled out the elbow pads he’d bought her. She rolled her eyes. “Really, Oliver? How breakable do you think I am?”

Oliver grinned. “Your elbows are very precious to me.” 

Felicity huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Fine. If my elbows mean that much to you I’ll wear them.” She put on the pads and her new helmet and Oliver handed her the bike’s handlebars.

Felicity slung her leg over the seat and paused to adjust her helmet’s chin strap. “It’s good thing I didn’t have any dignity before we decided to do this.”

“You look great,” Oliver assured her.

Felicity stopped fiddling the chin strap to pin him with a look that said don’t lie to me, Queen.

“Responsible,” Oliver amended. “You look very responsible.”

Felicity dropped her hands to the handlebars. “I’m the envy of every kid who ever had to live in a medical bubble. Alright, oh wise one, bestow me with your knowledge. How do I ride this thing?”

“Um.” Oliver faltered. He tried to remember what Robert had told him and Tommy the day he taught them to ride. It was so long ago. Oliver remembered the warm weight of his father’s hands covering his on the handlebars. Robert’s hands had dwarfed Oliver’s. Most people’s parents loomed less as their children grew older but not Robert Queen. Even in death he seemed to expand, taking up more of Oliver’s thoughts with each passing year. 

“Oliver?” Felicity said.

“Sorry.” Oliver snapped back into himself. He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. “How about I just push you around the circle a bit so you can get used to how it feels?”

Felicity tugged her bottom lip between her teeth; a nervous habit. “Okay.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of Felicity. You’re going to do great.”

She sighed. “It’s kind of pathetic. I can take bullet for someone and fly a supersuit but I’m scared to ride a bike. Definitely pathetic.”

Oliver caught her under the chin with his finger. “You, Felicity Smoak, are the least pathetic person I’ve ever met. And the bravest.”

Felicity gave him a wobbly smile. “Right. Let’s do this.”

“Honey, you have to take your feet of the ground,” Oliver said.

Felicity flushed. “Oh. Right.” She placed her feet on the pedals. Voice slightly edged in panic she said, “You better not drop me, Queen.”

“Never.”

Oliver led her around the cul-de-sac a few times while Felicity pedaled slowly. Then he said, “Want to try without me?”

“Okay,” Felicity said in a small voice.

“I’ll get you going then just try to glide a little bit, okay? Don’t pedal just see if you can stay balanced for a few seconds.”

Felicity nodded, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration. Her pink helmet matched her lipstick. That combined with the elbow pads...she was the most adorable thing he’d every seen. Oliver tucked his smile away for later. “Ready?”

Felicity nodded again. Oliver walked beside her for a moment, one hand on the handlebars, one on the back of her seat. Then he gave her a gentle push and let go. Immediately she started to wobble. “Oh no. Ohhh no.”

“Pedal,” Oliver called after her. “Find your center.”

“Frack!” Felicity slammed the brakes and plowed her feet into the ground. She looked back at Oliver guiltily. “I was going to fall.”

“It’s okay. Let’s try again.”

The same thing happened twice more. On their fourth try Oliver let go and Felicity barely wobbled. She pedaled a few times and the bike stayed upright, gliding alone the pavement. Felicity whooped. “I’m doing it!” She bent her neck to look at Oliver over her shoulder, a thousand watt smile plastered on her face. “Oliver, I’m doing it!”

He saw the danger before she did. “Felicity, look where you’re going!”

“Huh—?”

Too late. She careened over the slight curb, crashed into the unsuspecting shrub, and collapsed into a pile of limbs and leaves and spinning wheels. Oliver jogged over to her. “Are you okay?”

Felicity detangled herself with the bike’s frame and sat up. “Yeah.” Her helmet sat askew on her head. She spat out a leaf. “Ms. Grzywna’s shrub kind of cushioned the fall.” She patted the branch closest to her. “Sorry, shrub.”

Oliver grinned. “But you did it, Felicity. You were riding.”

Felicity beamed. “I did, didn’t I? Go me.”

Oliver held out a hand. Felicity took it and he pulled her to her feet. “You’re my best pupil by far.”

“I’m your only pupil.” Felicity unbuckled her helmet and shook out her hair. The sun bounced off it like spun gold. A small twig had lodged itself behind her ear like an artist’s pencil. Oliver plucked it out. 

Felicity pressed herself up against him, hooking her thumbs through Oliver’s belt loops. The tops of her breasts brushed against his chest through her thin t-shirt and a little thrill skittered up his spine. Felicity made Oliver feel like middle school kid all over again. Every time they kissed it was like his first kiss on steroids: all the excitement and none of the awkwardness or braces. 

Like she could tell what he was thinking, Felicity pressed herself even closer. Rising up on her tippy toes, she nuzzled her nose against his. “Who knew you were such a good teacher,” she said, stealing a kiss.

“I’m hurt you had so little faith in me.”

She chuckled against his lips. “I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’ll consider it.” Oliver stole the kiss back. Felicity tasted like sunshine and the vanilla chapstick he kept stealing from her purse. Perfect. “So how are we going to celebrate this very major life accomplishment? We could ride down to that new ice cream place you wanted to try…”

“Actually,” Felicity interrupted, “I had something else in mind.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. About that Obi-Wan fantasy…” Felicity glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. She bit down on her bottom lip and Oliver felt fairly certain that this time the action wasn’t prompted by nerves. "You've just been such a good teacher."

The smile spread slowly across his lips. “Get your bike, padawan. We’re going home.”


	37. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver goes to Felicity after the events in 4.21 to tell her what she’s always told him: it’s not her fault. He knows it won’t be enough.
> 
> A/N: I have no idea when this would take place considering Oliver is kind of occupied at the moment but I had to write it out so in this ’verse they get a moment to decompress. I haven’t proofread so I apologize for any messiness! 
> 
> Spoilers for 4.21 Monument Point

He found her in the foundry. Felicity sat slumped in her chair, her eyes trained on the blank monitor in front of her. She didn’t look up at the sound of Oliver’s footsteps or as he slowly lowered himself into the chair beside her. 

“Felicity-”

“53,349,” Felicity cut him off. “That’s the population Havenrock. Or it was. Before I sent a nuke straight at it.” She looked at him and Oliver’s heart shattered into a hundred pieces. Her eyes were red from crying but wasn’t what did it. It was that her lipstick had rubbed off, leaving her lips pale and bare. Felicity wore her lipstick like armor. Now even that final line of defense had abandoned her. 

“Felicity,” Oliver said softly, “it wasn’t you fault.”

She nodded but more to acknowledge that he’d spoken than to agree with him. “I’m sorry, Oliver,” she said.

Oliver’s forehead wrinkled. “Sorry? For what?”

“For all the times I said those exact same words to you and expected you to just believe them. Like there was some switch you could just flip off to stop feeling like it was your fault. Dig, Lyla, even my dead beat dad…they keep saying it’s not my fault. But I don’t think I’m ever going to believe them. It was my job to stop those missiles and I failed. So I’m sorry. I must have sounded so stupid to you.” 

“Felicity,” Oliver said slowly. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through. I don’t think anyone can. But you have to know, all those times you said that to me…you were almost always right. And everyone else is right tonight. What happened to Havenrock is on Darhk’s hands. You did everything you could. Most of the planet is alive tonight because of you.”

“Not sure that’s any consolation to the people of Havenrock,” Felicity said. She picked at the purple nail polish on her left thumb. It was the only nail that still wore polish; the rest she’d worried clean. Then suddenly her hands stilled. They lay palm up in her lap, the fingers curved up like a prayer. 

Felicity’s hands were always busy. Typing something, building something, gesticulating as she talked. The sight of them lying there frozen shattered Oliver’s heart for the second time. Darhk had done what no one before had managed; he’d brought Felicity’s hands to a full stop. 

Almost more than anything else, Oliver hated him for that. 

A tear rolled down Felicity’s cheek and fell onto her open palm. “Who am I, Oliver?” she whispered. “Who’s hands are these? They don’t feel like my hands.”

Was it alright to touch her? It didn’t matter Oliver was already doing it. He gathered her hands up in his and squeezed them. Her fingertips were ice. “I know who you are,” he said firmly. “You’re Felicity Smoak. MIT Class of ‘09. Bitch with wifi. Remarkable. Beautiful. Kind. That’s who you are. And none of that has changed. Someone had to make an impossible choice tonight and I’m so sorry it fell to you. If I could have traded places with you I would have.”

“I know,” Felicity said. “I know you would have. That’s what makes you a hero. It’s part of the reason I fell in love with you. But you couldn’t save me from this anymore than I could save those people.” Another tear slipped free. It fell, wet and hot, onto their joined hands.

“I know this isn’t the right time to talk about us,” Oliver said softly. “But I just want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Whatever you need. Whenever. Where-”

“Wherever,” she finished for him, huffing a slight laugh. “Right. Got it.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “I mean it. My light is always on for you, Felicity.”

“Thank you.” Felicity slid her hands free and resettled them in her lap. Oliver felt the loss in deep his bones. “Really.” Felicity looked away and scrunching up her nose like she was fighting another wave of tears. “I’m sorry I think I just need to be alone right now.”

“Okay.” Oliver loitered for a second before standing up, just in case she changed her mind. She didn’t. 

He forced himself to stand up and walk away.


	38. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they finally get married it's a simple affair

In the end they get married in Bali with only a few of their closest friends and family in attendance. Donna is there with Captain Lance on her arm. Lyla and Dig. Sara is the flower girl. Roy and Thea are there though not together, which they keep reminding everyone. And yet when the officiate waxes on about the enduringness of love it’s impossible to miss the way their eyes seek each other out and then keep falling back to each other for the rest of the ceremony.

The wedding is scheduled for sunset and Bali gifts them with the perfect evening. It’s hot but not oppressive, a soft breeze rustling the white chiffon draped over the chuppah. Seagulls wheel overhead and turquoise water laps quietly at the sand. The sky melts into a swirl of pinks, fiery oranges and dusty purples just as the officiant reaches the main event.

“Do you, Felicity Megan Smoak, take Oliver Jonas Queen to be your lawfully wedded husband, with all his faults and strengths, as you offer yourself to him with all your faults and strengths? Will you help him when he needs help, and turn to him when you need help? Do choose him as the person with whom you will spend your life?”

Felicity’s nodding before he even finishes. “Yes. I do. Yes. I do, yes.”

The small crowd chuckles softly and but Felicity doesn’t care; she’s positively giddy, a thousand butterflies fluttering their wings just beneath the surface of her skin. There have been lies between her and Oliver before, betrayals of trust, overreactions and insecurities that caused them to fall apart when they should have been falling together. There was a time when she gave up on this ever happening, gave up on them altogether. That’s how she knows that this time they’re ready. Sickness and health, richer or poorer; they’ve been through all of that already. Anything bad that comes there way, she knows they can take it, they can kick its ass, just as long as they’re together.

The officiant turns to Oliver and presents him with the same question.

Oliver’s eyes crinkle at the edges. He has crows’ feet now like an old man. He is old, in experience if not in age. He’s tired often. Carrying the world on one’s shoulders is a wearying responsibility for even the strongest of men. The only thing that eases it is Felicity standing at his side, sharing the burden. Plus, he can only sleep when she’s lying next to him so just for practical reasons he has to marry her. And then, of course, there’s the small fact that he’s blindingly, can’t-see-straight-when-I’m-without-you, heed over heels in love with the woman.

Really, it’s the easiest question anyone’s ever asked him.

“I do,“ he says.

The smile that crashes across Felicity’s face is blinding.

The officiant pronounces them husband and wife and Oliver may now kiss his bride.

So he does. And he does. And then he does some more.

Their friends cheer and toss flower petals to the wind. When Oliver finally pulls away both he and Felicity are grinning so hard their faces may split in two. The setting sun gilds Felicity’s edges in pale golden light, she’s glowing, and it’s a little bit funny because this is how she’s always looked in Oliver’s head: like a warm light beckoning him home.

It nearly bowls him over, the realization that finally he is.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes:  
> Let me know what you think! I love to hear from you guys.


End file.
